The Most Dangerous Game
by Mr Wang 330
Summary: After discovering a strange woman wandering Fastlane, Sniper and the REDs capture her, and warily take her in their base. But Sniper's caution and worry make him wonder who she is, and what her intentions truly are. Is he really the hunter? Or the hunted?
1. An Unusual Catch

**Hello everybody. I'm new here on Team Fortress fanfiction, though I am familiar with some of the works here by now. The characters are so whimsical and humorous, and while they lack proper backstory and plot, this allows all the readers to manipulate these traits into something entirely unique. This idea popped up before I even looked up on this archive, but by the time I clicked on the front page, I already saw that there were at least five other stories featuring fem characters on the first page alone, so I'm really sorry if you happen to find the subject repetitive. That said, I'll try to make this as unique as I can make it, so I hope you can enjoy. This fic will appear as a semi-serious fic. Of course, if it involves the other TF2 guys, I'll throw in some humor here and there. Oh, and while Sniper appears as a sort of main character in this story, I'll occasionally show the point of view of other people. If I happen to make any errors regarding the Team Fortress universe, grammar errors, or anything else, don't hesitate to tell me. This is my first TF2 story, so please review! Thank you.**

**A/N: This particular chapter, as well as the overall title, was inspired by Richard Connell's story of the same name. "The Most Dangerous Game" (not mine) is a good short story that I highly recommend.  
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"Bloody hell...?"

RED Sniper had hunted many types of dangerous game in the savannahs of the Australian Outback, and he knew when animals felt fear when they were in his scopes. But when he observed his newest peculiar prey, he didn't know what to think of it. As he sat at the edge of his window in his sniper nest/bedroom in the old Fastlane, the Aussie found the most unusual quarry. He'd hunted the "most dangerous game" plenty of times, especially with the BLUs, though this wasn't the case right here. No, this was a much more... unique catch. Several times he tried cleaning the scope, or removing and polishing his shooting glasses, but the Outbacker's keen eyesight had never failed him, and it wasn't about to now.

A strange woman was prancing about in the middle of a battlefield. She wore a uniform, though it wasn't a BLU uniform, not bearing the color or emblem, it was a military-esque uniform nonetheless. It was like an olive drab battle dress uniform. A simple observation yielded that she was in her mid-twenties, had short shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes, and a rifle strapped to her back, and this observation was _without _a scope. Upon a closer inspection, just the subtle movements and gestures on her face told a lot about her. The mystery woman was panicked. Frantic. She seemed already aware someone was watching her, as she carefully advanced from one point of cover to the other, looking all around her for the stalker. She knew she was being hunted, in some way or another.

And Sniper knew he was a damn good hunter. She often hid behind crates and around the corners of buildings, but because she was unaware of the point of origin her alleged "stalker" was, or if there even _was_ someone or something watching her, the Australian had no problem keeping his sights on her. As Sniper had her in his crosshairs, he was unsure of what to do. There was a battle going on, and he really should be sending his fellow REDs some sniper support, as they controlled the several key points of the map, while capturing the BLUs' remaining command points to banish them altogether. Does he just shoot the trigger and forget all about her? Does he ignore her and turn his attention to her later?

As Sniper contemplated, he opted for the plan to incapacitate her somehow and bring her for questioning, though this would be difficult. He had several distractions around him, and while it was easy to catch up with her on his scope, the constant sounds of the fray across the area proved to be a bit of a hindrance, not to mention the rumbling and subtle shaking of the wooden building as BLU troops hopelessly storm the RED's base, and actually aiming for areas like the head were a tad difficult. Plus, the Aussie didn't know what this lass was capable of. Rolling the dice, Sniper tried his luck and took a shot near her feet, just to see how she'd react. A slight grin developed as she frantically jumped and ran to another part of cover. He took another shot, just to scare her again, and corner her at a clear vantage point at the same time. One of the rules of hunting was to conserve your energy and keep your nerves steady, while backing your prey into a corner. And the bushman was doing just that, until the woman had nowhere else to move, and she was backed into a dead end of an alleyway. Satisfied, Sniper removed his standard sniper rounds from the bolt and loaded tranquilizer rounds instead. He rarely ever used such ammunition, only on occasions when the RED's own Demoman got horribly drunk and disorderly, Heavy was on a hunger rampage, or if Scout was being annoying (which he practically was all the time).

The woman in Sniper's crosshairs was looking all around her, though she now held the rifle strapped on her back in her hands. Still, it didn't help when the sheila had her back on him. Focused, the Australian hunter had her head in the center of his scope.

"Sweet dreams, Missy..."

"Aaaaarrrgghhh!"

"What the bloody hell?!" Sniper yelled, looking behind him. An unlucky BLU Spy fell for the oldest trick in the book, and was electrocuted by the Razorback that the Sniper had so luckily chosen to keep on his person. Stunned from the unexpected surprise, the Spy was disoriented from the shock. Dropping the rifle and taking out his trusty Kukri, Sniper took a big swipe with the blade. The Spy recovered and retaliated with a block and attempted to stab the Aussie in the stomach with his own knife. Dodging the attack, Sniper took the Kukri and back hand slashed the Spy, leaving a large gash across the devious Frenchman's chest.

"Aww, did I get blood on your suit?" Sniper asked mockingly.

The hunter could see the Spy's brows furrow from under the balaclava, and the backstabber attempted to throw the knife toward the Sniper's head, only to get the bushman's hat that rested atop his head, pinning it to the wall. Bewildered, Sniper felt the top of his head, only to feel his short frizzy hair in place of his traditional slouch hat.

"That was my favorite hat, ya filthy snake..." Sniper mumbled, pointing the bloody Kukri at the Spy. Panicked, the usually calm and collected Frenchman reached for his revolver in an act of desperation, only to be stabbed through the chest by the Sniper's blade. "Well, idn't this ironic?" the bushman said, as he retracted the Kukri and the Spy crumpled to the ground. Satisfied, Sniper took the hat pinned on the wall and dusted it off. He noticed the tear and hole on its center and sighed.

"Bloody Spies... Go to hell, wanka..."

Resting his hat down, he went back to the sniper rifle on the ground and looked through the window. The woman he had seen earlier before the Spy's intrusion was nowhere to be found.

"Ah, piss!" he cursed.

Frustrated, he took out his anger on the nearest moving object that had the color blue, which happened to be an unlucky BLU Scout. Aiming, he fired a shot into the leg of the fast-talking hooligan, making him fall face flat on the ground, shutting him up effectively. Sniper still felt a bit distressed, but the suffering of one of those twitchy pikers was enough to subside his anger for a little bit. Shrugging the fact a strange girl was wandering the field, he continued with his original objective of providing sniper support fire and causing havoc in the BLU team's ranks. The next targets of his hunt was a BLU Medic and a Soldier combo. Aiming for the Medic's head first, he lined the crosshairs right between the German's spectacles.

"You guys are gonna have to find another use for those necks..."

* * *

The battle was a success, and the BLUs were once again driven out of Fastlane, though the poor bastards never seem to take a hint and keep coming back for more. Still, they REDs had won, and they would be able to rest easy for the time being. The team celebrated with Demoman's stash of scrumpy and other spirits. However, something still troubled a particular Australian.

Taking a swig of some scotch the Black Scotsman had given him earlier, Sniper continuously looked through the window of his sniper's nest. His unwavering curiosity and annoyance of her stayed in his mind. To add to the frustration, his favorite hat was ruined, leaving him to wear another hat, his Professional's Panama. The sun had set, and he was looking at the deep midnight sky through the windows. The bushman hadn't told anyone of his discovery, because no one in their right minds would believe him. Hell, even Sniper had a hard time believing what the hell he'd seen. Putting down the bottle of scotch, he went through a box in his room before finding his cigar case. Taking one and lighting it, Sniper inhaled deeply. As the smoke flew from his breath, a knocking on Sniper's door could be heard.

"Yeah, come in," Sniper said, before going back to enjoying his smoke.

"Yo, Snipes. What's up? Why you ain't down partyin' with the rest of us?"

Though Scout couldn't see it in the dimly lit room, Sniper had a scowl on his face. Scout was the second most annoying person on the team, next to Spy, whom the Sniper shared an intense rivalry with.

"Listen here, mate. You've done some... scouting around the area, right?" Sniper asked, uneasily, waiting for some wisecrack.

The Boston resident raised a brow and laughed. "Well I wouldn't be a friggin' Scout if I didn't scout, would I? I thought you were smart, Snipes. Don't tell me next that'cha thought those jars on ya shelf was apple juice!"

Sniper's brows furrowed, and he felt himself ball a fist. It took a lot of self control not to use a tranq round on Scout. It was a simple question, and the reason he'd asked was because Scouts don't typically explore the area as their name suggests. They were a hit-and-run unit that also helped capture key points and intelligence.

"I don't need yer insults, ya bludger! All I'm want to ask, is that have you seen any... strange people here in the area? As in, non RED or BLU?"

The wise-guy raised a brow, not looking like he was about to insult him, but rather actually thought on the question. "Who the hell's gonna be here in Fastlane besides us?"

Sniper inhaled another breath from his cigar and looked back out the window. "I think we've got a visitor here."

Scout raised a brow skeptically. "What, like a Spy or somethin'? We already got enough a' those two-timin', backstabbin' scumbags here."

Sniper grinned and nodded at that comment. He grabbed his scotch bottle. "I'll drink to that, mate. Anyway, she might be. Whatever the reason lad, we'll have to be wary of her..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa... '_She_?' '_Her_?' As in a chick?" Scout asked bewildered.

"Yeah, that's right. We've got a sheila here. Of course, maybe one of those bloody Spies was stupid enough to disguise themselves and put on breasts and a pretty face, but I think even _they_ are a bit too smart and too dignified to resort to that."

"Maybe you give 'em too much credit, Snipa'."

"Maybe..." Sniper said as he went back to his smoke. "Maybe..."

"Awright, man. Well, I be on the lookout for some crazy chick, but I gotta go back to the party. Someone's gotta keep these knuckleheads in line, right? 'Cause between that black drunk cyclops, a deranged Soldier, and that fatty fat guy, I think dat I'm the only sane one here. Well, me _and_ you, Snipes," Scout said, he closed the door to the Sniper's nest. But before closing it all the way, Scout popped his head back in. "Oh, and uh... nice hat..." Scout said, before closing the door. Snickering from beyond the door soon ensued. Sniper adjusted the panama on his head before hawking and spitting in a nearby jar.

"Believe me, ya twitchy hooligan... You are far from the most sane... You were right about me, but... Hell, the bloody Heavy talks to his gun, and I think he's got more brains than you, mate."

* * *

Night skies, and a sea of stars were all that greeted Sniper. The Australian bushman fruitlessly looked from his vantage point all over for the (supposed) woman, as the cool winds blew against him. He didn't get too far on his scotch, and instead opted for some decaffeinated coffee on his traditional #1 Sniper mug to keep his nerves steady. Even though it was now close to midnight, the guys downstairs were still partying, and most likely drunk. Medic and Engineer, the surprisingly smart two, were most likely in their bunks sleeping, or at least attempting to. Even though Sniper was upstairs, he could hear what sounded like singing. This could only mean one thing: Drunk karaoke. Currently, from the noises downstairs, Scout was singing.

"Oh, God save the Queen... Scout sounds like some bloody piker raping a car alarm..."

Putting ear plugs in, Sniper set down his rifle. It was getting late, and even though the BLUs were temporarily driven out, it wouldn't do the team much good if he was up all night searching for some girl, whom Sniper was doubting her existence as the minutes went by. Using up the last bit of goodness in his cigar, Sniper tossed it out of his window. However, upon tossing it, he saw a strange reddish glowing dot off in the distance. He adjusted his shooting glasses carefully, until it was safe to say he wasn't seeing things.

"What the... do I see a cherry over there?"

The "cherry" he was referring to was undoubtedly the small embers coming from someone's smoke. He had a knack for spotting them, especially seeing them on cloaked BLU Spies who liked to smoke in the middle of a battle. And amidst the darkness of the night, this cherry stood out like a sore thumb. Perking up again, the Aussie took the sniper rifle leaning on the wall and looked through the scope. Grinning, he saw none other than the strange woman, still clad in her greenish uniform, smoking a cigarette in the nightfall. Quickly taking a tranq round from his vest, he early fired. However, Sniper cursed when he saw that he rushed in firing, only picking off the cigarette from her mouth. Still looking from the scope, Sniper saw that the woman was shocked, but what surprised him was that shortly after, she was looking right at him. From the scope, it was as if she was glaring at him, right there, straight in the eyes. The black-haired sheila took her rifle and opened fire. Sniper ducked below his window, as a bullet flew right above him, and shattering a Jarate jar on his shelf. Cursing on how he was going to clean that up, Sniper loaded another round into the sniper rifle. Getting back up and looking back into the scope, he saw that the rifle the woman had was her own sniper rifle. Before he could aim, the girl had already fired another shot, this time grazing the bushman's arm. Ducking again, he felt the warm blood trickle down on his arm. Instead showing about a fit anger or annoyance, Sniper smiled.

"Ooh... I love it when they fight back..."

Sniper duels like this filled the hunter with adrenaline, as he raised up and took aim. He fired a shot, though it hit the woman's leg. Sniper cursed by yelling the word "piss" again at his aim. The rush and the dark affected him greatly. The sedatives would probably knock her out in due time spreading from her leg, but not fast enough. Not if he wanted to bag her and still keep his head. He took another tranquilizer round and peered his head. Her aim was a tad off, missing Sniper's head by inches. He fired back before ducking from another bullet. The bushman was no cowardly Spy, but he was forced to look for a way to finish the fight without risking his neck. The girl's aim was good, if not rough around the edges. Still, she had dangerous enthusiasm. Calmly looking around his room for something, Sniper noticed his torn hat resting on a crate, and an idea developed in his head. The bushman had never tried the idea, considering he'd never sacrifice a good hat, but since it was ruined anyway, he decided to have a crack at it. Crawling under the windowsill, he took the hat and placed it on the stock of his sniper rifle. Still hiding himself under the window, he took raised the rifle up, just enough to reveal the hat, and occasionally bobbed it up and down. After waiting a couple seconds, the hat was impacted by another sniper round, flying off before falling daintily back on the ground. Lowering the rifle, he waited for a minute or so. Sniper was no Spy, but he saw how faking your death like that lifted some weight off your shoulders, if only for a while. But for now, the Australian waited. The suspense was killing him. After about another five minutes, Sniper peered his head again, sniper rifle tightly gripped in his hands. He saw that the woman was now back to her smoke, thinking she killed the man and now had a time to catch her breath. A smug and triumphant grin developed on Snipers face, as he loaded a final tranq round into the chamber. Taking a steady aim, he lined the woman's neck in the crosshairs.

"Steady, steady..."

Lightly squeezing the trigger, the woman flinched, before dropping like a stone on the ground. Taking the scotch bottle and downing its contents in a way Demoman would be proud, Sniper congratulated himself. The hunter rushed out of his room and downstairs, with his rifle and a camera in hand, so he could personally commemorate his latest quarry, and drag the woman's unconscious body while he was at it. Along the way, he saw Heavy passed out on the floor, a bottle of vodka in one hand, and a "sandvich" in the other. Pyro was lazily resting on a chair, but whether he was passed out or just sitting was unknown. Soldier was attempting to juggle grenades, while slurring something about Frederick the Great and General Patton. Medic and Engineer were nowwhere to be found. However, the most creepy scene Sniper witnessed, was the trio of Scout, Demoman, and most disturbing of all, Spy, all drunk, maiming the once proud Beatles soundtrack, a band Sniper actually liked.

_"She loves ya, yeah, yeah, yeah! She loves ya, yeah, yeah yeah!" _they sung together, in a cacophony of off key and horrible voices.

_"Wit' a love like dat, you know you should be glad!" _Scout finished, causing a bunch of slurred laughter from everyone else. Everyone took another swig from the bottle in their hands.

Sniper scoffed at the sight and sound of that, as he continued on.

* * *

A few minutes walk, Sniper saw the woman snoozing on the ground. She made light snores, as her chest slightly rose up and down. Kneeling down, Sniper took a good look at her mouth, tempted to yank her teeth out to make a necklace, or perhaps decorate his panama for all the trouble she'd caused him. Inspecting her face, it looks like she was in her mid to late twenties, and seen some combat before, but yet remained unscathed. The woman had pale skin, though a cheek looked as though it had been smudged by dirt. She looked almost too innocent for combat though. But from his earlier battle, that innocence hid a deadly killer. So as Sniper yanked the girl up to his level from her short hair, and showed her off like a fisherman after catching a trout, he was able to take his hunting photo with pride. Aiming the camera at himself and showing off a pose and smile, the bushman clicked the camera and the flash briefly shone. Satisfied, Sniper took ropes and bound together her hands and legs. Then, picking her up, Sniper looked at the already developed photo in his hands. He couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the unconscious girl and himself posing next to her.

"Heh... Looks like I've caught the most dangerous game. Those blokes back at RED base'll never believe this!"


	2. Hangovers and Flying Sparks

**Hey guys. Winter break ftw! But seriously, I have no sense of continuity and flow, so I may take a while to update. But now that there's the break, I may have more opportunity to write. Thanks for the reviews and your patience. Enjoy the next chapter.

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Greeted by the sunlight breaking through the creaks and holes in the wooden walls of his room, Sniper woke up the next morning with a headache from staying up late, but he probably couldn't compare to the rest of the team from last night's party. Everyone must be suffering a massive hangover. Getting up from his bed and putting his boots on, Sniper recollected what had happened last night. After seeing the photo of him holding the strange girl by the hair, the Aussie remembered the events that had transpired last night. He couldn't help but grin again at the sight. Following her capture, Sniper had proceeded to put her in the detention cells of the base. Sniper knew that this girl would have to talk as to who she is, and what the hell she is doing here as soon as she wakes up. Sighing as he grabbed his panama and vest, Sniper walked downstairs to the main living room of the base.

"Oh…my… God…"

Sniper couldn't believe the mess before him. The place was utterly trashed. The TV was broken in by Scout's bat. Most of the furniture was toppled over. Heavy was still sleeping on the floor, his beloved "sandvich" in one hand, and an empty bottle of vodka in the other. Evidence of fire and an explosion were in the corner of the room, Soldier and Pyro not too far away from it. Well, at least the scorched flooring, walls, and the gaping hole in the wall said so. And the smell…

"Good gravy… That rotting water buffalo carcass I slept in way back smelled better than this!"

Sniper tip-toed over the sleeping Heavy, who was snoring obnoxiously loud. However, when Sniper was about to sit on a couch that was still upright and in good condition, he saw probably the strangest thing in the world. The hunter gasped at the sight, and was laughing silently. A once in a lifetime opportunity, Sniper quickly, yet silently ran upstairs and grabbed his camera to take a snapshot of the scene before him.

Scout and Spy, sleeping on the couch cuddling next to each other.

Sniper would cherish the photo forever, not to mention bring some hell and laughs to the team. What on earth possessed them to drink so much that they would even…? Sniper had no idea. But the thought of the two people he hated most on the team was just… Sniper's thoughts were interrupted, and as footsteps were walking by, the hunter turned around and saw the distraught faces of Medic and Engineer, looking at the destruction caused in the room.

"Dag nabbit, I am _not_ gunna fix all this stuff up!" Engineer said, looking over at the smashed TV and broken furniture.

"Zis is unacceptable! Even in ze Oktoberfest, people never get zis drunk und out of hand! _Dummkopfs_!"

Sniper could clearly guess that the two didn't drink much last night, and they were furious with the way everyone was acting. Sniper shifted uneasily before just casually greeting them. However, his eyes wandered to the two men snoozing on the couch.

"Mornin', mates. Listen, uh… can either of you explain… these two sleepin' beauties here…?" Sniper asked, as he gestured toward the sleeping Scout and Spy.

Engineer glanced at the two and chuckled a bit. "Oh, yeah. I 'member that. See, Demo was plannin' on having a drinkin' contest with Scout versus Spah. Now, Frenchie already was a bit tipsy with the wine and champagne, and rejected it. But soon, after goadin' 'em, they accepted. And whoo-eey! Who'da think Spah could drink?" Engineer reminisced, an amused smile developing on his face.

"But vait! It getz better!" Medic piped in. "Zen, Demoman dared ze Spy to French kizz Scout! After he said no, Demo told him zhat he was not man enough to do it! Vell, in a drunken stupor, Scout and Spy got together… And zen… Oh hoo hoo! You can probably put two and two together! But zhat was vhen ve thought ve should leave before Demoman zhinks of a vay to get get us drunk enough to do such zings…" Medic shook his head. "I svear, Demo is already drunk all ze time as is, let alone what happens when he iz at parties. Soon, hiz liver is won't be able to take any more…"

Sniper could only hear the information fed to him in a manner that was both shocked and horrified, yet found it uncontrollably funny. After the three laughed about it, they noticed Spy toss and turn in his spot, before falling off the couch altogether. The Frenchman panicked and got up from the ground, still a bit woozy and shaky. After wobbling a bit, his attention turned to the three men staring at him. His eyes were still half asleep, and the three REDs couldn't tell if Spy knew where and what he was doing right now.

"Ahem… Gentlemen?" Spy muttered, still recovering from a hangover. He groaned as he put a gloved hand over his head. "_Mon dieu_..."

Sniper couldn't help but feel surprised at the usually clean man's appearance. Spy's suit, balaclava, and slacks were wrinkled and dirty. The jacket had a large brown stain from who knows what, and his dress shirt disheveled. For some reason, there was also blood seeping through his slacks near his knee. Heavy bags were under his eyes. Somehow, a burnt cigarette was still loosely hanging from the edges of his mouth. This wasn't the smooth and suave Spy. This was more of a hobo.

"Crikey, mate… No offense Spy, but ya look like shit," Sniper commented after staring for a few seconds.

Spy looked down at his ruined suit in horror and disgust.

"Oh, _merde_…"

Dusting off the jacket and adjusting his tie, the mortified Frenchman cloaked himself invisible so no one could see how dirty he currently was. The silhouette hurriedly rushed to the bunks to change into something more respectable. Sniper, Engineer and Medic couldn't help but chuckle some more. Proceeding with cleaning up everything that hadn't destroyed outright, Medic and Engineer took glances at each other, before looking over to Sniper.

"Wait a darn minute… If you're still up and about like a wild stallion and everyone else got drunk off their rockers… What in tarnation were you doin' last night, Sniper?"

As Sniper turned a couple of chairs back upright, a proud smile crept up in his face. He sat on one of the chairs and lay back with his hands behind his head.

"Well, getta good look at this, mates!"

Sniper pulled out the hunting photo he had pocketed earlier and showed it to Engineer and Medic. The Texan and German were both shocked and amused at Sniper's latest catch. Medic snatched out of the Australian's hands and took a closer look.

"Well… ain't she a beaut!" Engineer commented. This only proved to make Sniper's smile increase.

"Zis… zis is a _fr__ä__ulein_, no? Vhat in ze… How did you get her?" Medic asked, adjusting the spectacles on his face.

"Yep. Caught 'er wanderin' around Fastlane. But, she's a mean one. Had a sniper duel with her. Pretty sure the sheila'd bite ya head off if she got the chance… But other than that, a real charmer."

"You… talk to this girl?" Engineer asked cautiously.

"Nah. She's still in the detention cells. The sedatives should 'ave worn off by now, but my guess is that the sheila's still sleeping away like a kangaroo in mum's pouch from the rough night she had."

"Well… what're we supposed to do with her? I mean, having this girl around… Whaddya plan on doin' with her?" Engineer asked.

"First things first Engie, I'm going to interrogate her. Don't know if she's a damn spy. But after that, I'm not sure where this thing's gonna go. I guess when the team finds out, we'll figure it out," the Aussie said, taking the photo back from Medic and pocketing it. Engineer and Medic looked at each other with unease again, before turning back to Sniper.

"How vill ze others react? I mean, zhere are some _schweinhunds_ who might take advantage of her in… certain vays… Soldier might keell her, or end up getting her keelled… Oh, and I can only imagine the repercussions if she iz a drinker…" Medic said, going through all the possible scenarios that could go wrong.

"I don't think we gotta choice, mates. We just have'ta tell the team, I guess. The only thing to do is… wait for their hangovers to wear out…"

* * *

"MEN! I am very disappointed in you! You have disgraced our unit, destroyed the recreational room of our base, and now all the beer in the cellar's gone! If I have to crack some skulls to put some sense into ya, I will…"

"Excuse me Soldier, but veren't you drinking as vell, and it vas _you_ who blew a large hole in ze wall?" Medic asked Soldier, who was drilling his troops on the consequences of drinking, ironically.

"Shut up, Nazi trash! I was demonstrating to the people the consequences and what really happens to level-headed men when they over-drink! And, uh… as you can see… it's quite dangerous…" Soldier said, glancing over at the hole in the wall that led to the Rec room. Conveniently, the hole leads straight to the briefing room, which allowed for a quick shortcut instead of traveling around halfway around the base. Turning to the troops, (most of which were drinking coffee to wake them up and lessen their hangover and had no recollection of last night) Soldier went back to his drilling. "Sun Tzu once said, '_a wise general strives to feed off the enemy. Each pound of food taken from the enemy is equivalent to twenty pounds you provide by yourself._' So if you want to get drunk, at least take it from the enemy and don't take all our stuff for no one else to drink! At least you can get twenty times as drunk off of the BLU's alcohol, according to him…"

"Um, excuse me, but doesn't zhat quote mean somezhing like transporting a pound food over terrains and distances costs az much az buying tventy pounds?" Medic dared interrupt once again.

Soldier glared before taking out his copy of _"The Art of War: Pocket Edition" _from one of the pockets of his uniform. Flipping through the small pages, he came across his quote and its explanation. "You know what? You can just shut up. You're a Medic. You don't fight on the front lines! You know nothing of war!" he promptly replied.

"Hmph. _Schiessekompf…"_

"What did you say!?"

"_Scheissekompf. _It meanz head of a unit or battalion. A very respectful term in Germany," Medic quickly explained. Soldier raised a skeptical brow from under his helmet before scoffing.

"Next time, so long as you're under _my_ roof, speak American!" Soldier shouted in Medic's face before returning his attention to the rest of the team at a somewhat calmer level. "Okay. So, according to Sniper, with backed evidence from this photo, we appear to have a prisoner, gentlemen. A _female _one…"

As Sniper's hunting photo was laid on the main table in the briefing room and, several shouts, bemused expressions, and others of complete shock entered the room.

"Whoah, Snipes wasn't kiddin'?" Scout exclaimed, as he reached for the photo. "Hey, not bad, man. Pretty hot…" Scout said, inspecting the woman's appearance. "Hey, why da hell does my mouth taste like cigarettes…?" Scout asked himself as he put the photo back. Sniper, Engineer, and Medic eyed Spy smoking in a shady corner and chuckled lightly to themselves. Strangely enough, Spy wasn't wearing his usual brown blazer, quite an oddity seeing him at a somewhat casual appearance, though his jacket was probably in the laundry room, cleaning up the mess from last night.

"Why does battlefield have tiny baby girl? I thought that war was fought with _men_!" Heavy exclaimed.

"So we got's a lassie don't we, fellas?" Demoman asked, taking a swig of scrumpy. Surprisingly, despite how much he drank and how much he got drunk, the Scotsman's high tolerance to alcohol allowed him to survive the next morning petty sober. Well, as sober as Demoman can be on a casual standard.

"Hmmph, mrhmm hmphrmamh!" Pyro added.

"Yo, I like Pyro's idea!" Scout shouted.

"Calm down, mates! Listen, we gotta just interrogate her before we do anything! She's our prisoner now, and we don't know if she's just some damn Spy. Back-stabbers… No offense, Spy," Sniper proclaimed.

"As much I detest ze bushman, he is right. I much about my counterparts, and zis could be a trap," Spy said, coming out of the shadow in the corner of the room. "A girl our base, one adept in combat no less, could be a trick laid out by our BLU counterparts. Hiring a woman whom we have no prior knowledge of could be a very clever idea indeed. No to mention if she tries to use her… feminine wiles…"

"Damn. Snipes, this has to be the greatest thing eva'. We got a chick who's gonna try an' hit on all of us, maybe more! Thanks, man! Finally, this ain't just a dude-fest!" Scout said, plotting the scenarios involving him, the girl, exchange of valuable intel, and a distinct lack of clothing on either of them. This provoked scowls from most of the team.

"Not to worry. Sasha is the only woman in my life," Heavy declared, raising said gun and hugging it tightly, cooing something in its 'ear.' "Did you know I was first man in Soviet Union to be married to gun?"

Silence…

"Anyway, mates, I think we should get over to the detention center. She's in one of the holding cells. She should be up by now. Let's not keep the shiela waiting, guys…" Sniper said, as he stood up from his chair and headed towards the deeper confines of the base. Most of the team shrugged their shoulders as they got up and followed in the Australian's suit.

As Medic walked next to him, Sniper whispered in his ear. "Now that Soldier's out of earshot, what did you really call him earlier?"

"I called him a shithead."

"Oh."

* * *

As Sniper predicted, the woman was already up and about, wandering around the confines of her cell. From the looks of it, she was troubled and annoyed, though no one could really blame her. As she heard the several footsteps coming in, she was greeted by the odd sight of a team of troopers clad in red, each of them very different from the rest. As they saw the woman with their own eyes, several internal clamoring went on inside the group. A man wearing a helmet covering his eyes approached her from the other side of the iron bars separating her from freedom.

"Tell us everything you know, BLU scum, and we might just let you get away with some minor wounds and bruises! I'd hit woman! I'd do it, for the greatness of Reliable Excavation and Demolition, and for America! Tell me your name!"

The woman raised a brow, obviously looking like she couldn't take this man seriously.

"Are all Yankees as rude as you?" she asked in a British accent.

"Yo, the Yankees suck! It's all about the Red Sox!" Scout shouted.

"Charming… Might I ask just who the bloody hell all you Yankees are?" the woman asked still unsure of her current situation, and what these people wanted.

"I'm the one asking questions! Now, _you_ didn't answer _my_ question! Who are you?!" Soldier yelled.

The British woman crossed her arms and huffed. "Hmph. Fine. My name is Catherine. Catherine Drake. And you, Yankee?"

"Heh. Catherine, eh? Well, you damn Redcoat, **I** am Sergeant Jonathan West; Codename: Soldier. And _you_ will follow my orders! Do you understand that?"

"No," she wisecracked.

"Good!"

"Oh, uh hey…" Scout introduced, slipping a hand between the bars of her cell and shaking her hand. "I'm Scout. At least dat's what everyone calls me. You can call me Kyle," he said with a smile. The girl was first drilled, now hit on, and was starting to feel very uncomfortable. With his free hand, Scout somehow pick-pocketed the key from Sniper and unlocked the cell door, prompting shouts and objections all around. "Hey, hey! I got dis, okay? Relax, it's under control!" Scout assured, as he led Catherine outside on at the cell. As Scout escorted her, he wrapped an arm around her, which she promptly threw off. She looked around, unsure of the people around her.

"Hello there, Missy. Name's Colton. Colton White. I'm the Engineer here on the team. Feel free to call me Colton, Colt, or Engie. Pleasure to make yer acquaintance," Engineer greeted, extending a hand toward Catherine. She graciously accepted the hand, and shook it. Somehow, she knew that this Engineer was just being friendly and wasn't trying to hit on her like that Scout did. Everyone else took the hint as this was the time to introduce themselves.

"Well, you're awfully polite for a Yankee. Unlike some people…" she said her eyes glaring towards Soldier and Scout.

"Aw, shucks Missy. You're makin' me blush…"

Turning her attention to the massive man equipped with a massive minigun to match, she extended her hand.

"Hello. Catherine Drake. And you are…?"

The man took her tiny hand in his, almost crushing it outright in his grip. So much so, that Heavy's hand severed her blood flow, and her hand fell asleep in his. "My name is Nikolai Voronov. I am Heavy Weapons Guy," he said in a thick Russian accent. "And this, is Sasha," he said, gesturing to the gun in his hands.

"Oh," she merely said. She looked down at Sasha, humoring Heavy and waving to her. "Hello. My, Sasha's a big girl, isn't she?" Catherine asked.

"Are you calling her fat?" Heavy said, a tinge of anger in his voice.

"No, no, no. Not at all…" Catherine said, starting to back away from Heavy. She shook her hand quite a bit, trying vigorously to get the feeling back. As she reversed, she bumped into another man, this one wearing a white medic's gown and bearing a small pair of spectacles on the bridge of his nose. Judging from the coat and the cross on his shoulder, Catherine knew that this man was some sort of medical professional.

"Hallo! I am ze Medic. My name iz Heinrich Gregor. Nice to meet you, _fr__ä__ulein,_" he said in a German accent. Catherine let out a bit of a chuckle seeing the man go so much as flourishing and bowing in front of her. If he had a hat, he'd probably doff it too. Medic looked like a nice enough guy at first glance, but something about the German's smile made Catherine think there was a more devious side to this man than meets the eye.

"'Ello, lass! The name's William Leonard! I'm the Demoman!" another man said approaching her, practically shouting in her face. Several things troubled Catherine about this man. One, he had a bottle of scrumpy in his hands. Two, his unusual appearance and a contradictory accent. He was supposed to be black, yet he was… Scottish? The British woman couldn't help but stare at the walking oxymoron.

"Eh, don't mind, lass. Aye'm a Black Scottish Cyclops! Aye get it, yah never seen me kind before!" he complained. "Anyways, how 'boot a drink?" he asked, brandishing a flask out of thin air. He offered it to her, and she hesitantly drank a sip of its contents. Laughing triumphantly, Demo grabbed the flask from Catherine's hands and downed the remaining contents in lightning speed before belching loudly. "That's teh stuff!" he said.

Eyes trailing, she saw a man in a sharp suit smoking, a balaclava masking his face. Taking another breath of his cigarette, he tossed aside and pulled another one from a case. The mysterious man offered one to Catherine, which she declined. Shrugging, the masked man lit his smoke and inhaled once again.

"And who might you be…?" Catherine asked, somewhat perplexed and wary of this character.

"I would prefer if we would remain anonymous," he declared in a French accent. Catherine deciphered that everyone here was supposed to be of several countries around world, not just the 'damned Yankees.' "However, I ze Spy. You may to call me that if you so please, chéri."

She nodded, but received a strange vibe from the man. He looked very secretive, subtle by the way he acts and talks, obvious by the mask covering his identity. Well, he was a Spy after all. But the British woman knew well to be wary of such people. Catherine looked next and saw a man (or at least she assumed) in some kind of suit with a gas mask covering his (her?) entire head.

"Hello. I'm Catherine. You?" she asked simply, extending a hand.

The gas mask trooper took her hand in "his" gloved one, and mumbled, "Mh! My nmhhp hrr mnmph mhonpnh! Hymph herr Pyro!"

"What? I'm sorry, dear. You're going to have to speak up. All I heard was 'Pyro.'"

"Erpmh! Wmnp dmoph erm phmp hmphahymph!" he shouted angrily, his complaints muffled by his gas mask.

"Erm… Okay…" she said, ignoring him. For all future confrontations with this person, she'd just use "Pyro." Catherine looked around to the only remaining person in the group, and she stopped in her tracks, almost letting a gasp escape from her breath. She slowly felt agitation bubbling in her.

"G'day! Name's Roger Appleby! It's a pleasure. I'm the-"

"Sniper…" she finished in a hushed voice. The Australian scratched his head in confusion.

"Uh yeah… Well, noice to meet ya… Cathy was it?"

She gave an expressionless nod, though Sniper noticed her brows furrowed a bit. The hunter was becoming in a slightly awkward position.

"Um… well, put 'er there!" Sniper said, extending a hand and breaking the silence. Catherine smiled slightly. She didn't take his hand. Instead, her hand swiftly made contact with his face, resulting in the bushman getting his hat knocked off and falling to the ground. Several "oohs" and amused expressions hailed from all the rest of the team's faces. "Bloody hell was that for, ya wanka?! What'd I ever do to you?"

"Well 'Roger Appleby,' let me think…" she said, mentioning Sniper's name in a mocking tone. "Oh yes. One, I'm not a wanka, you Yankee. Second, I hate when people call me 'Cathy.' Three, do you recall frightening me, then attacking me, knocking me unconscious, and bringing me into this strange place? And God bloody knows what you probably did to me in my vulnerable state…"

"What the bloody hell kind of guy do you take me for? Hey, I don't know who the hell ya are! Could've been a damn Spy! I didn't know how to react? And who you callin' a Yankee, ya piker? Do I look like an American? No, I'm 100% Aussie Bushman, and I'm proud," Sniper said, hating her already.

"Hmph. I don't need to be berated by you, ya bludger!" Catherine fought back.

"She-devil!"

"Twat!"

"Wench!"

"Hooligan!"

"Dude, I think the new girl's got ya beat, Snipes. She's got similar insults! She knows your moves! I guess bein' under the crown or Queen or whatever mean's ya got the same slang and insults. C'mon, man! Be original, or least be usin' real American insults!" Scout commentated, observing the ever increasing heated argument. Both of them were shouting several trash talking words and phrases that seemed to get a little repetitive and quite simply lame as the seconds passed by.

"Shut up!" Soldier said, his drill sergeant voice booming throughout the corridors of the detention center. Everyone went dead silent in a flash, and you probably could hear a pin drop. "Ahem! Those BLU bastards are approaching Fastlane here as we speak, with a cart full of enough explosives to blow us to Kingdom Come. Now, we'll figure this out later. You. Lady. Get back in the cell."

Catherine threw her annoyed glared from Sniper to Soldier and put her hands on her hips. "Oh really? Well what makes you think I'll get back in there, Yankee?"

The RED team responded by aiming all their weapons straight at the British woman, forcing her comply. She slowly raised her hands over her head and backed into the cell. "Hmph. Just when I was enjoying getting to know you people better…"

Soldier grabbed the key from Scout's hands and locked the barred door. Putting the key in his pocket, Soldier readied a rocket launcher and rallied his troops.

"Alright men! Get your gear and ready up! Last one out, lock the door!"

Sniper grabbed his panama off the ground before taking another glare at Catherine and following the rest of his comrades.

The RED team acted fast, and ran to the main exit of the base, next to the supply and locker rooms in lightning speed. Everyone grabbed any gear, weapons, and other equipment and readied themselves for combat. However, amidst the sudden anticipation for battle, Soldier shouted out to the team.

"Wait a minute! We'll need someone to keep that little bitch under a watchful eye, make sure she doesn't pull a fast one… or something!"

Nobody said anything, instead waiting in the setup period as people adjusted their weapons, loaded ammo, or simply sat on the benches for the alarm, and the Announcer to start the match.

"Sniper! You just volunteered yourself!"

Sniper's train of thought as he polished his precious rifle was broken, as he looked at the grizzled war veteran in confusion and disbelief.

"What? Solly, you can't be damn serious? You'll need my help out there!" Sniper retorted, trying to defend himself.

"We're trying to stop a mine full cart of explosives. We'll handle without a Sniper. Besides... You found her. She's your responsibility now!" Soldier said, as the gates opened up.

"You make it seem like she's some dog or something I found on the street!" Sniper shouted, as the Soldier exited the room.

"Not my problem!"

Soon enough, all of the team left the spawn point, leaving Sniper to go to his newly assigned post.

"Heh... Appleby... hehe..."

Sniper hawked and spit on the concrete floor. He could still hear Scout snickering about his real name.

"God damn, piss!" Sniper shouted, kicking the nearest object on the ground with force. Unfortunately, that happened to be his sniper rifle. Coming to his senses, the Australian assassin picked his gun back up and dusted it off. He then hugged it tightly before holding it a more eased position. He was no Heavy, but Sniper still cared about his weapon. After all, he'd been using it for the past eleven years, and it still performed great and way ahead of its time. Sniper let out another sigh.

"What the bloody hell did I just get myself into?"

Tightening the grip on his gun, Sniper walked through the doors, back inside RED base, and grudgingly back to the detention cells…

* * *

**There you have it. Chapter 2. I hope you enjoyed. Gee, coming up with names for the units can be fun, yet difficult. In some of the stories I've read, most of the good names have been taken. Heinrich Gregor? Yeah, not satisfied with that one... Heh... Oh, and I have a feeling someone's going to compare Sniper's name to a certain restaurant franchise... Oh, and Catherine, first name plus British accent, was inspired by a sniper from another game that all of you have probably never heard about. Those of you who have, then good for you. Yep. All fifty of you.**


	3. Tensions Rising

**Like, OMG, you guys are probably surprised that I haven't completely given up on this story! But in all seriousness, yeah, I plan to keep on writing for this story, though I admit it takes lower priority than my others... Anyway, I wanted a change of pace from my usual writing, and writing about a humorous war story seems good enough, so here's the latest chapter. It's nice to write something a bit more lighthearted, and I hope I still have people willing to read this. Oh, and to _actual_ British people out there, I mean no offense to you, and I doubt I used your slang properly. Or I used it too much. But remember, TF2 wasn't made for ethical accuracy, and it more parodies it, so give a hoot and laugh at how naive the American is trying to portray you blokes. Anyway...

* * *

**

Years of training, whether it be at the RED's recruitment centers and training camps, or his own personal experiences of the Australian Outback could not have prepared him for such simple interactions as to meeting a girl. Some of the others might be alright with the whole prospect and think of the new girl to be a refreshing presence (assuming they aren't forced to kill her tonight). But Sniper wasn't one to really interact with others. Sure, he could be friendly, when he so desires, but wishing to be friendly and making intelligent decisions at the same time didn't come around too often. Plus, Sniper was a rugged bushman who had lived in isolation in the great plains for a good portion of his life, away from civilization.

So as he walked back into the detentions cells and was met with the scowling face of this girl, he was unsure of how to act.

"So, uh... G'day, Cathy..."

"That's Catherine to you, you filthy little bugger!" she quickly snapped. The Brit didn't even bother to turn her head and look at him. She sighed and finally made eye contact with the Australian bushman, though Sniper actually preferred it when she was looking away at the corner.

Sniper could only look somewhat shocked, but he kept his silence. He knew that she'd be less than enthusiastic being locked up in there, though the fact that she gazes at him at an icy -120 degree glare didn't help much. Hell, if it were up to him, he'd probably put a round in her head and be done with this whole shenanigan. Of course, Soldier, Spy, and especially Scout would complain and moan all day about the ordeal if he actually did kill her. There was one time where Scout almost ripped off Heavy's arms because he accidentally stumbled on upon his secret cache of pornography. The poor Russian was actually overpowered by the "leetle man" and he never even looked or intended to go through Scout's stash. God help anyone, should the perverted little teen learn that the only real-life girl that wasn't a few hundred or so miles away was gone.

"Roight, look here, sheila... _You're_ the one in the cage here, and me? I've got a sniper round here with the name "Cathy" written on it. Now unless you two would like to get acquainted, I suggest you lower your tone..." the Aussie assassin warned in a gentler, yet darker tone.

"Pfft... As soon as I get out of this cage, I'm going to give you a swift kick to the bollocks, ya bludger!" she sneered once again, taking her eyes off of him. As much as he found the fits of rage funny, the very thought of her threat sounded... most unpleasant.

"Aw, what happened to the little sheila who was just having fun meeting and getting to know her captors? You seemed quite friendly enough with Engi..." Sniper commented, starting to become a bit annoyed.

"I'm sure Colton would have kindly asked me what I was doing here on this battleground and politely escort me to the base, and not randomly shoot at me from a sniper's nest like you did. Still, I mean I just met him, and he just might be as insidious as all you Yankees camping about here..."

Sniper grunted. He merely let a sigh escape his breath and went over to a nearby coffee machine sitting on a counter. As he started making his traditional decaffeinated coffee, the Aussie contemplated as to how in the hell Catherine remembered the engineer's real name. As soon as codenames and positions were filled, people don't really have names anymore. After a week, you don't really have names, because you're all the same, shedding blood together and going through the best and worst of times. Or at least that's what the team always says. In truth, the team, save Spy, forgot everyone's names. The Frenchie bastard was probably the brains of this team, and it was rumored that he has ties to the Administrator, the RED team's self-proclaimed "caring and loving" leader. Sniper always thought of that crabby old woman as reminiscent of her mother, albeit somewhat cold and meaner. Ah, the good 'ol days...

As Sniper continued making his coffee, he looked over his shoulder and saw that Catherine looked a little pale and skinny even. Then again, Sniper's general thought of an average build is somewhat strange, considering he's been lanky all his life, and most people on the team, especially Heavy and Scout, and on the extreme ends of the spectrum. Nevertheless, Sniper thought she might be hungry, and his self-taught standards as a professional state that he must "be polite." So at least he'd humor her.

"So, Cathy, are you hungry? It's been quite a bit since mornin', and you haven't eaten yet. Do you... want some tea and crumpets?" Sniper joked, knowing that if she was going to annoy him all day, he could at least return the favor.

"Hmph. I never thought you to resort to common stereotypes, you koala-hugger. And could you stop being such a stubborn arse and call me Catherine?" she asked, her brows furrowing. While he did flinch at the slander at his nationality, Sniper just chuckled some more.

"I don't promise nothing."

"Fine. No, I do not eat crumpets, and tea is so... antwacky... I'll merely have some of what you're having, for now," Catherine replied. While Sniper was starting to get a hoot from using her new nickname, he was surprised that she at least maintained a civil tone when requesting what she wanted. And while Sniper had no idea what "antwacky" meant, he assumed that it meant something she didn't like. With a silent nod, Sniper prepared another mug of coffee.

"Roight... cream, sugar, decaf, or any 'a that?" Sniper asked, now hopeful his headache would recede.

"Decaf, and a bit of cream please. Oh, and I'd like some English muffins if you 'ave them. And do make it snappy... _Roger_."

Sniper paused at the mention of his real name. He was even more surprised she still remembered it, in a mere stint of two seconds. The way she said it was... an odd uncomfortable feeling to say the least. Nobody's called Sniper that since... Australia. And that was a place he hadn't been in a long time.

"Y'know, ya don't have to call me that, sheila... Just call me Sniper..." the assassin said in hushed, almost fleeting tone.

"You call me Cathy, and I call you Roger. You seem to be irritated enough, so I'll keep using it as you do," the British woman replied, a smug grin developing on her face. A scowl was forming on Sniper, or Roger's face. "And do hurry it up with my muffin, Roger."

Roger sighed, but she did have a comeback. He was left without much left to say.

"Touché... though it doesn't really irritate me... it's just that ya sound like my bloody mum when ya use my name..." the sniper said under his breath. Catherine didn't hear, though she tapped her foot impatiently waiting for her meal. Downing some of his coffee, Roger walked off to the nearest pantry to see if there were any English muffins to shut this girl up.

* * *

Hours passed, and Sniper was getting more and more strained as he was forced to watch his British counterpart. Why was he even assigned on guard duty? It was simply pointless. What was Soldier thinking that made Sniper staying back to keep watch on Catherine? The Aussie couldn't stress how stupid it was. First off, there were steel bars blocking the way, and the female intruder was stripped of all her weapons and gear that could be seen as a threat. And, even if she were to somehow get past the gate blocking her way, there was a nearby automated sentry built by Engineer that was alerted to any prisoner escapes, and eradicates anything not in RED's database as a "friendly." But yet, why was Sniper still here?

Soldier always made up plans ranging from the ingenious strategical, to the plain stupid and pointless. As it were, he never also planned ahead of the immediate task at hand, and he never thinks of a phase two until the need for it arises. Soldier probably didn't acknowledge the defenses here, leaving Sniper out of the action. At least the bushman was relieved that Catherine had quieted down since their spat earlier. He used the opportunity to call his parents and tell them of his latest exploits (most of them are based on his false career as a doctor, so as to appease his accusing father, whom calls his son a "crazed gunman"), but not after getting an earful from the Brit on being a mama's boy. However, at the poorly worded mention of "I met a girl" over the phone, Sniper had to talk for almost an hour to his parents explaining he didn't meet her "that way." That she still wants to kill him. Catherine of course hears some stints of the Aussie's conversation, and puts in her own delightful commentary, in the form of mocking complements, and colorful insults. But beyond that, she was relatively calm for the rest of the day. A very welcome change of pace.

"Huh... maybe I can actually hear myself think... maybe take a nap..." Sniper thought. Resting himself on a metal folding chair, Sniper tilted the brim of his panama hat over his eyes and prepared for a well-deserved rest.

His thoughts for said rest were disturbed by the bells and klaxon alarms ringing throughout the base. Sniper jumped in his seat, causing the folding chair to collapse, causing the assassin to violently land on the ground. The shock of the alarm combined with his agitation, as well as Catherine laughing in her cell, annoyed Sniper to no end. Frustrated, he got up from the ground, covering his ears to block out all of the disturbances, though it hardly helped at all. When things quieted down a bit, Sniper heard a familiar tune played on the bugle, which resonated within RED base's halls. The bugle's sounds were identified as the typical morning role call melody, as well a victory hymn. Soldier and the others were most likely back from whatever struggles they had with the BLUs.

Sniper grabbed his rifle, and decided to regroup with the rest of the squad. Hopefully Soldier or another RED had some sort of plan to deal with Catherine.

* * *

Walking through the charred gaping hole in the wall from last night's party, Sniper saw his colleagues sitting on the long Justice League-esque table in the briefing room, each of them occupying a chair. A final chair with a crosshair embroidered on the backrest remained empty. As Sniper took his seat, Soldier stood up from his and spoke to the team in his usual gruff and commanding demeanor.

"Well gentlemen! That was an impressive show back there! Those BLUs didn't know what hit them!" Soldier exclaimed, somewhat showing a very rare hint of satisfaction. "Now then... Sniper do you have anything to report?" the American trooper asked.

"Naw, not much. Sheila's real annoying, and doesn't like to talk much. Not to me at least..." the Aussie bushman replied, his hand still holding his aching head.

"Yo, is she cool? I mean, is she alright? C'mon Snipes, help me out here," Scout piped in, still very interested in this new girl.

"Well, she's alright. I mean, aside from the fact that she's a complete and utter **_bitch_**, she seems nice enough."

"Sweet!"

"Damn it boys, we are _not_ going to argue over a single girl! We are discussing the plans of action to repel the remaining BLU resistance out of here!" Soldier exclaimed, getting straight back to business. Scout quickly dismissed him with a middle finger.

"We can talk about whatevah we want, tough-guy. Those bastards are gonna come back; no denying dat. But the BLU's are outta da picture for now, and I think we can rest easy," Scout said, leaning back on his chair and propping his feet on the table.

"You can _not_ speak to your commanding officer like that, boy!" Soldier exclaimed, rolling his sleeves. Most of the group was in their own little world and unfocused, though the prospect of seeing Soldier fight Scout was enough to grab most of the team's attention. Medic silently placed a betting pool amongst themselves as Soldier neared the laid-back and easy going Bostonian. Scout raised a brow, though his cockiness was mostly unhindered.

"Uh huh... and I don't think _you _should speak dat way to a superior, Solly!" Scout retorted.

"Are you questioning my authority! Are you calling me a maggot?!" Soldier yelled, grabbing the front of Scout's t-shirt. Medic pooled together the money, half of the team betting on Soldier kick Scout's ass, and the others vice versa. The German laughed, as some people were about to get rich, and some were going to get filched out of their monthly pay...

"I'm callin' you an idiot! And yeah, I do question ya authority. 'Cuz a bunch of people have _actual_ military experiece. I mean, look... Heavy was in da Soviet Army, Medic in da German Army... and see deeze dog-tags? I'm a certified U.S. Private. What about you, chucklenuts? Where'd you serve?"

The spectators ooed, as they could see Soldier's face quickly alternating back and forth between a look of uncontrolled anger, and intense sadness to the point of crying. Most of the team knew that he was denied from every branch of the U.S. military, and he was officially a civilian. Of course, not since the WAR incident, people have avoided that topic altogether.

"Y-you take that back!" Soldier exclaimed. His tone was mixed. On one hand, it sounded angered and full of rage, yet it still sounded like a request instead of an order. Spectators couldn't determine if his face was barely contained anger or pitiful hopelessness, a look the group wasn't used to seeing.

"No."

With that, Soldier balled a fist and was ready to pound Scout into the dirt. However, his face was now tinged with hesitance and uncertainty. His arm was shaking, as the smug Bostonian stared the war veteran straight in the eyes (or at least where his eyes would be under the helmet), a confident smile adorning his face. The team was at the edge of their seats.

Then a tear rolled down Soldier's eye.

As Medic pondered whether that sort of chemical reaction within Soldier's physiology was even possible, the supposed warrior quickly ran away from the scene, sobbing. The entire was completely dumbfounded, save Scout who was laughing uncontrollably.

Medic looked down at the pile of money on the table, and then eyed the rest of his team still in shock at the uncharacteristic outcry of Soldier.

"We win! Pay up, _schweinhunds_!" Medic cried out to half the team. The team betting on Scout (Medic, Demo, and Engi) cheered, as Sniper, Spy, Heavy, and Pyro watched in bemused silence.

"Mrhphh, a mph mrrh, mah mahrmpharpm!" Pyro cried out.

"He's right! Why the bloody hell do we have to pay up!" Sniper objected. "There wasn't even a fight!"

"Ja, but Soldier vussed out! Vhat a hoot!" Medic retorted. Quickly gathering the pile for themselves, Medic Engineer, and Demoman lined their pockets with their colleagues' pay.

"Sorry buddy, but a bet's a bet. Even yella-bellies like you should know that..." Engineer said, with a smile.

"Atten-SHUN!" a familiar tone, yet unnatural voice called out. The team took a brief respite from their money squabbles, and faced Scout who was standing atop his chair, likely to seem taller and make a more imposing presence. His usual cockiness was replaced by a more serious expression reminiscent of the "old" Soldier, yet a smug grin was still on Scout's face, putting everyone a bit tense.

"Since Solly's a dumbass and he can't take da presence of a _real_ man..." Scout started, waving around his dog tags for everyone to see. "_**I**_ am takin' charge. No buts, ifs, or hows about it. All who do not support me, Scout, as leadah, speak now or forever hold yah peace."

"OBJECTION!" the entire team shouted.

"What? What was dat, I couldn't hear you! Oh wait! Time's up, I'm da new boss!"

"_Fick mein leben..._" Medic sighed.

Several outcries from the REDs were heard, obviously expressing their discontent with Scout leading them. Of course, their complaints and pleas were nothing but music to the Boston kid's ears.

"Alright, as first order of business, I want dat girl from in da cells freed, and I want her made a member of da squad!"

Most of the group seemed rather content with that, not minding at all (some, especially Scout, seemed enthused about the idea). Sniper however, was shown a lot of distress.

"What?! You can't be serious, mate! I mean, she's mean, she'll drive you crazy... she'll... she'll make ya want to tear out yer hair, she'll-"

"Yeah, I had enough outta you, Snipes. Maybe she just gave a bad first impression. I mean, ya did shoot her and threw her in her cell in da first place... Hey, I'd make you're day a livin' hell too if I was in da same situation... 'Sides, she's useful. You said it yahself that she's a good snipa'. Like you, sort of, "Scout commented. "And you'll remembah who's the boss now!" he stressed.

"Hmm... make my life a living hell? Huh... I guess you've already been off to a good start, ya twitchy hooligan..." Sniper mumbled under his breath. Scout jumped down from his position off the chair and pickpocketed the keys from the Australian. Scout led the way, taking the bugle Soldier left behind and meant to play a charging fanfare; instead, he played an annoying off key mess. With the rest of the team in tow, Sniper was frustrated as he was forced to grudgingly follow Fastlane RED team's new leader. Shifting about uneasily, Sniper went over to Medic and Engi, the two who seemed most distraught, or at least uncertain about this entire predicament.

"Guys... you really think this'll be a good idea? I mean, Solly had one good idea once in a while... But Scout? We always regret listenin' to him..." Sniper whispered to his friends.

"I know, I know..." Medic pondered. "Zis will be a most interesting change of pace zhough, vouldn't you say Engineer?" the German physician asked.

"Well, she seems like a nice enough sort... But from what Sniper says, she might be as dangerous as a rattlesnake in your boot. Solly was a good guy, though it was kinda weird that he broke down like that..." Engineer said. Of course, he wasn't sad at all Soldier had an emotional fit, considering he now had another month's pay in his pocket. "Scout's a good kid, but it'd help if he weren't such an ornery bastard. He'd be a good leader. I mean, he needs to think about more than uh... you know..." the Texan rambled.

"Shagging it up?" Sniper suggested.

_"Scout mit ihr gepoppt?" _Medic added. "Doing zhe... _bomsen_ vith zhat _fräulein?" _

"Um... I have no idea what that foreign talk means, but yeah... I think you two get the general picture. C'mon, cowboy up. We need to keep Scout outta trouble now, do we?"

Agreeing, the trio followed in suit with the rest of the team, Sniper pondering how Cather could "accidentally" get him killed. He spent many years on the Aussie outback, he'd been on the run from Interpol on his assassinations, faced the hardships of war itself upon joining Reliable Excavation and Demolition, and no way in hell he'd let some sheila end all of that. However, this woman was good. She might even live up to the standards of a true professional, though she might have a disregard for the first rule. But _he_ was better. Sniper reminded himself of his own professional's code: he was going to be polite, he was going to be efficient... and in case she provoked him, he was already plotting his plan to kill Catherine Drake before she'd be able to kill him...

"Let's see... allow her safe access outside of cell, but sabotage own sentry gun usin' Spy's tools... naw, too messy... poison her next cup of coffee and English muffin... Now there's an idea..." Sniper thought.

* * *

**Alright, there you have it. I'm sorry if I kinda overdid some parts, or emphasized on things outside of the OC's involvement. Also sorry if Medic's German is a bit off. But then again, even actual lines stated by the characters in their responses aren't entirely accurate. The next chapter will be up sooner... I hope. Anyway, thanks for reading, and please review. **

**~Mr. Wang  
**


	4. The Administrator's Project

**Hey guys, Mr. Wang here, bringing you the latest installment of "The Most Dangerous Game." I know it's been a while, but I have to say, it was difficult at first, but I will say that I had a lot of fun writing this chapter, and I hope you can enjoy it. I must say, I am actually surprised at the reception this story is getting. The favorites and alerts on here are the highest I've gotten for a story in a while. And this is just some half-assed story I didn't really put much thought into, so I'm still caught off guard that this is getting good reception. Sorry it took so long to get uploaded, but I hope you guys can like it enough to tide by.

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**

Sniper groaned as he headed towards the meeting room the following day. With Scout as the leader, and Catherine released and _made a member of the team_ for that matter, he knew that the following days were going to be hell. Scout had warmly welcomed the Brit to the team, and some of the squad was actually enthusiastic about having a completely annoying, agitating, inconsiderate, mean, manipulative, and stupid she-devil join their ranks and become a member of the mercenary group that was their way of life. Sniper knew that Catherine was about to disrupt the rather sound and serene, yet war-like cycle of life that the REDs were so aptly contempt with. She probably was just another spy. Sniper knew he utterly _hated _spies, and while he hated the BLU and even the actual RED team spies more, the fact that Catherine had a couple more Y-chromosomes in her genes made her a lot more dangerous to be weary about. Sniper heard stories about a girl nicknamed Mata-Hari, a Dutch girl in the first war who used her feminine wiles to get close to people, and spied on several nations. She was subsequently executed for espionage. A fitting end, if Sniper said so himself. The Aussie assassin wasn't about to let this girl get away, or stab him in the back. Some might say the Sniper is paranoid of spies (hence his infamous Razorback invention) but in a world where you can be doublecrossed, and being a loner in a battlefield where you have no friends, it's always justifiable.

Sniper mumbled his thoughts to himself, as he walked through the blast-hole in the wall the team was so used to using (which was now being considered to keep) which lead to the briefing room. Sniper saw a few of the team in their respective seats, so the bushman walked off to his own. However, he noticed a peculiar thing; there were ten chairs. Sniper counted the classes on the team, until he realized the extra chair was actually Catherine's. Eying the empty seats, Sniper observed the emblems that were embroidered to each of the backrests, each matching the all of the squad members' respective duties. However, he noticed a chair right beside him that had a hastily-stitched emblem that looked like a half-assed combination of a Union Jack and a crosshair.

"Oh, bloody hell..."

Catherine walked in the room, a smug grin on her face, as she took her seat next to Sniper. The moment the two made eye contact, Catherine's grin turned into a cocky smile reminiscent to Scout, while Sniper looked away, grumbling about Sheilas and pikers.

"Well, top o' the morning to you, Roger..." she laughed. The Australian beside her didn't care to respond as he facepalmed.

By now, everyone in the squad was in their seats, save Soldier and Scout. As Catherine laughed on, Sniper noticed "the great leader," Scout, take a dramatic entry though the twin doors the team used to take before the gaping wall-hole was blasted in the party. Scout kicked open the doors, revealing himself wearing a carefully embroidered military jacket that was a couple sizes too big for him, and adorned with several home-made looking medals. He kept the baseball cap and headset. The jacket was obviously Soldier's. Said sociopath was standing at attention, and obediently following Scout as he neared his chair.

"Yo, atten-shun!" Scout bellowed in his best Soldier impression. However, his high, barely-past-puberty voice couldn't hold a candle to the way Solly was able to instill some strict order like a drill sergeant. Some of the team still snickered, including Sniper, who still couldn't take the fact Scout was a leader seriously.

"Hey, shut up, ya dumbass!" Scout shouted, pointing a finger at Sniper, as well as any other member of the team that was mocking him. However, his hand was comically covered up by a long jacket sleeve, loosely hanging over the end of his arm. This prompted even more laughing from the team.

"YOU WILL ALL SHUT UP AND STOP GIGGLING LIKE THE PANSY-ASS WOMEN YOU ARE!" Soldier yelled. Everyone was extremely silent in a flash, though many people were in disbelief. "Except Catherine, who erm... _is_ a woman..."

"Um... When does Soldier listen to teeny commander? I thought you hated Scout for trying to fit his baby feet in your large boots," Heavy asked incredulously. The patriot gave a big scowl towards the large Russian. Soldier never really approved whenever Heavy talked. Or the Medic. Or any non-American for that manner. The soldier tried to stare down at the former Soviet, glaring at him agitatedly. The Heavy attempted to intimidate Soldier by staring back, though the burly Russian found it awkward to stare at Soldier due to his steel helmet covering the top-half of his face.

"Well at least we have an _American_ leading this team, instead of someone like _Crouton, _or _Oktoberfest_ over there. Especially you, _Stalingrad_," the Soldier sneered. "Sure, City-boy here is a rather green leader, but since he proved his worth and stood his ground, I have no doubt he will become an excellent leader eventually... unlike you sorry sacks of scum!"

"Wait, Soldier... You mean to tell me that you're loyal to him all of a-"

"You shut up, Bilbo Baggins!" Soldier quickly silenced Sniper. The Aussie was speechless, and most of all confused as to what the hell Soldier called him.

"W-what did you just-"

"Shut it!"

Sniper was left with nothing more to say, as he facepalmed again. He was probably one of two sane people, the other being Engineer. Still, Engineer hardly voiced against anyone, and pretty much went with the flow, even if he had objections. And that didn't make anything easier. Engineer was always was involved in any of the in-squad politics or rules that went around, often acting as a neutral party, and sometimes the peacekeeper whenever the team got restless. The entire team, even Spy, often listened to Engi as the voice of reason. He was always a good guy, but he never really took any sides whenever there was a conflict between two separate parties. Engineer's support would probably substantial in getting Catherine out of the team, but he looked like he rather enjoyed the idea. Sniper's train of thought was interrupted as he felt a nudge on his arm. He saw Catherine, now sporting a smile that she must have learned from Scout; that cocky, confident, just-as-annoying smile that practically screamed out 'Hey! You suck, and I'm better than you!"

"Baggins, eh? Maybe I should start calling you that now..." Catherine commented. She gave a teasing laugh, though Sniper groaned in response.

"Just shut the bloody hell up, Cathy..."

Sniper pushed Catherine aside, almost tipping her over in her chair. She clenched a fist, though the angered experession gradually died down. As everyone turned their attention to Scout, the Boston kid was sitting in what was once Soldier's chair, which was larger and had a dramatic swivel effect with the turn of a lever on the armrest. It was almost like a throne, which was unusual to see someone of Scout's stature sitting in.

"Okay everyone, jus' got word from da boss. The dumbasses at BLU command are sendin' us th' same group of losers we've been killin', and they're gonna want to try and beat da crap outta us. Poor bastards can't learn, can't they?" Scout explained.

"No, Sir!" Soldier exclaimed.

Everyone looked at Soldier questionably, who seemed to act completely the opposite of what everyone would have thought his reactions to Scout's uprising would be. Scout merely smirked, and pointed over towards the rocket-man.

"Yeah, Solly here's been made my advisah. I make decisions, he... advises 'dem." A small pause of silence allowed the team to take that in. "Anyway, I also want to discuss the... 'controversy' of our newest member, Catherine Drake. Go ahead and stand up and introduce y'self, erm... Miss Drake..."

It was odd how Scout tried used a bigger word like "controversy" and how his rather blunt and insulting nature changed to a more polite one. Of course most of the team knew that this was Scout's way of trying to give a good first impression, so he could get into her pants later. Catherine stood up, reiterated her name, waved to the team and sat down. Sniper was appalled by how they cheerily greeted her back.

"Scout, I'm sorry, but why do we even have her? We can't rule out the possibility she's a spy, and why the hell would the higher-ups in RED bring in another team member above the normal roster? And another sniper at that!" the bushman argued.

"Hmph... I'm not _just_ a sniper, I can work with other weapons too... But afraid of the possibility of getting replaced, Roger?" Catherine teased. Sniper balled a fist shakingly, though his usual Professional's Standards prevented him from doing one of the most impolite things a man could do, hit a girl.

"Heh... Roger..." Scout chuckled to himself. "Anyway, I don't think da Administrator needs ta know. What's the harm done if we get another group member? I think you're getting jealous, Snipe's... or do ya prefer Roger?"

"Shut the bloody hell up, you spastic little gremlin..." Sniper grumbled, burying his face into his hands.

"But th' Sniper's right. Yoo're avoidin' th' question, Scoot. W' can't just be sittin here like a' bunch a weasel's behind tae Administrator's back. We got's ta tell her..." Demoman argued. Scout raised a brow, though he looked like he completely disregarded Demo's suggestion.

"Ooh, so yah got the drunk backing ya up, Snipes. Whoop-de-doo. You're in good company," Scout insulted. However, this prompted more uproar from the rest of the squad, who seemed keen on wanting to tell the Administrator further course of action.

"I do not 'ink that getting on _mon cheri's_ bad side with any tomfoolery regarding zis girl would be an appropriate action for a "great leader" such as you..." Spy retorted mockingly.

"Yeah, come over and say that to my face, tough guy- Wait, did you just call da Administrator 'my cherry'? Some kinda weird Frenchie nickname? What the hell is dat, you two gettin' it on?" Scout fought back

"Why yes, because your mother was getting tired and worn out. Zhe poor women could not take it anymore. What can I say? I am too much for ze ladies, and I have my needs that need to be... accommodated..."

"Ah, you stupid sonnova-"

"Ahem, movin' back on track here, partners... Ah'm not so sure that havin' this lady without permission from the Administrator's a good idea. Sure, Catherine's a nice gal, but we need to make sure before this can turn out to be some helluva problem," Engineer argued. "Uh, no offense to you, Missy. We're jus' trying to get our priorities straightened out..."

"None taken, Colton," she happily replied. The Texan gave a slight laugh before focusing his attention back to the team. Sniper and Scout absolutely hated how Catherine seemed to be acting with the Engineer, though both of them for two different reasons. For one, Sniper knew that if he was the one making that vocal argument with the same words as Engie used, he'd probably get a backlash from the feisty British girl. Hell, Engineer is a "Yank" and he still gets away with being able to use the nickname "Missy" on her, let alone Sniper calling her Cathy. It made him sick how seemingly innocent and polite she could be in the presence of the rest of the team. Hell, Engie was probably the start. She'd get the whole team eating out of the palm of her hand. Scout on the other hand, couldn't help angered by the fact that Catherine and Engineer seemed genuinely nicer to each other, and he almost felt threatened that the two might end up together in some sort of sick plot to deprive Scout of what he has solely deserved for so long: female companionship. It pissed him off to no end to see that only after about three meetings, Engie and Catherine seemed on better terms, and could even be called friends, when Scout was still trying to talk to her. What the hell was Engineer doing that he wasn't?

"Sir...? Sir...?"

Soldier managed to snap Scout out of his silent rage, causing him to come back to the real world. "Uh, yeah, let's jus' go ova to da comm room, an' see what da hell happens from 'dere..."

Everyone got up from their seats, and was ready to march out to room the team used to communicate with the Administrator. Sniper in particular was too overly excited to get rid of Catherine, and ended up walking faster than the rest of the gang, even pushing aside Scout in order to get ahead and inadvertently leading the group. Soldier offered to beat the "kangaroo-hugging bushman" with his shovel, though Scout declined. Still, the Bostonian could not see the logic in Sniper's mind that he wanted to get rid of this girl ASAP. And truth be told, Scout was actually enjoying the fact Catherine was annoying him. Sure, Snipes wasn't so bad, but the teenager could tell that he generally disliked him. They even got on each other's nerves from time to time. But Scout couldn't help but be entertained by their squabble. It'll probably die out when Sniper wises up and chooses not to get on her bad side, but for now, Scout would enjoy watching their fights. Now if only Catherine could focus her anger on someone like the fat, bald, dimwitted Heavy, or that smug, pompous, stuck-up Spy...

* * *

Entering through the two doors that lead to the communications room, where several computers, telephones, and television monitors lay neatly organized into several stations. However, the most spectacular aspect of the room, was the massive telescreen which dwarfed everything else in the room. The single monitor took up the whole back wall, was hooked straight to communicate with RED Command, and the Administrator herself. In front of the massive screen, stood a small console with several flashing buttons and a few levers, which were all too complex for the Scout to understand.

The Bostonian looked at the console and attempted to act like he understood how the machine worked, by pressing a few random buttons and pull a lever here and there, though all he got in response was a red flashing light that read "error."

"Yo, a little help here?" Scout called out. He was dissatisfied when no one immediately came to help out, but pushing his way through the crowd was the RED Spy, who quickly shoved Scout out of the way. However, the teenager wasn't about to let Spy overtake his leader ship, and attempted to shove Spy back. However, the Frenchman quickly caught Scout's fist, and twisted his arm, causing the newly promoted leader great pain, accompanied by a girlish yelp.

"Move, you simpleton! You're in my personal space..." Spy said as he flung back Scout's now limp arm. Looking at the several buttons, the masked man rapidly pressed a select few in a gracefully quick manner, before a green light flickered on the console. Pulling down a single lever, the massive telescreen in front of everyone came to life, with nothing but static filling it. However, the static soon cleared with color, and eventually the REDs could make out the silhouette of a middle-aged woman.

The video feed cleared, and the woman coughed several times, and even through the static filled screen, it was obvious the Administrator's room was full of smoke. She continued to cough out her lungs, while occasionally taking every breath of air to smoke her cigar. It didn't even look like she was aware she was on camera in front of the RED team.

"Ahem, _mon cheri,_" the Spy politely interrupted, though his voice was rather soft-spoken compared to the coughing tantrum the Administrator was throwing. "Madame... MADAME!" he yelled.

In the middle of her coughing, the Administrator paused for a second, before slowly turning her head towards the screen. The woman raised her brows high, and quickly furrowed them in annoyance. Her disgust at the REDs was noticeable in her face, and it was already plenty evident from the way she always yelled at them in combat. "What in blazes are you filthy, shameless, barbaric-" the Administrator's anger dissipated when her eyes met the Spy. "Oh, hello Pierre."

"_Bonjour, _Madame..." the Spy politely replied. Some snickering could be heard from behind at finally learning Spy's real name, though he payed them no heed. "Madame, it appears we 'ave a bit of a... situation..."

The Administrator put down her cigar in an ashtray (with several other burnt cigars accompanying it) and rested her head on her hands. "Really? The mercenaries from the Builders League United are retreating, so I hardly think you have a "situation." So leave me alone unless you wish to face the dire-"

"Yo, we need help with dis girl ova' here!" Scout shouted, pushing his way to the front of the crowd. The teenager grabbed Catherine by the arm and presented her to the Administrator. "We found her wanderin' around here da other day. Snipe's captured her and brought her in last night, and we took her in da squad... but... um, I thought I should bring 'dis situation up with you, Miss. I mean, I wouldn't want to do anything without your consent and stuff..." he insisted in his best kiss-ass voice.

Catherine wriggled free from Scout's grasp (which was difficult even for her) and stepped forward towards the large screen. The smoker looked down toward the woman, still clad in her neutral olive drab uniform. The British girl's stance stiffened and Catherine greeted with a salute. "Hello, Miss Administrator."

The Administrator paused, and her scowl replaced with an odd look of what appeared to be joy and amusement. "Ah, Catherine... I hope that the trip over here wasn't too rough for you," the Administrator said in a strangely personable tone.

"Yes, well I thought that parachuting out of the plane and into a warzone would be the toughest part... Never thought a bunch of Yankees would knock me out and throw me in a bloody cell..." Catherine trailed off, throwing another glare at Sniper before looking back at the Administrator. The middle-aged woman sighed in response, shamefully placing a hand on her forehead.

"Ugh... Freelancers... So, barbaric, so chaotic, so... disposable... Which is why I'm glad I brought you here, Catherine," the Administrator said, almost apologetically to Catherine, yet threateningly towards the RED team at the same time. There was now much more life in the crowd, as the team murmured and whispered this and that as to how the hell the Administrator knows Catherine, and even more so as to what she meant when she said she brought Catherin to Fastlane.

This time, Sniper pushed his way through the crowd of his team-mates and looked on toward the commander of Reliable Excavation and Demolition face-to-face. "What the bloody hell... Are you tellin' me that you actually brought this sheila in here?"

The somewhat personable expression on the Administrator's face quickly disappeared, and was replaced by her usual scowl when she noticed the rugged bushman. "Did you not just hear? Hmph. I brought Catherine here to be your example. I suppose you need to teach them proper manners first..."

"Yes, I've noticed that manners are a trait some members are... sorely lacking..." Catherine added, her cocky smile returning, as she felt totally in-control of the situation.

"Example...? What the bloody...?" Sniper was still trying to grasp that Catherine was actually brought on this team, _and_ she had the Administrator backing her.

"What are you? Are you a parrot who ate a bowl of stupid this morning? Dear me, Roger..." the Administrator sharply cut off. When she was met with silence, she let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh... I suppose I do owe you inbreeds and explanation now, do I?"

The REDs murmured and whispered some more, though when the Administrator cleared her throat, the noises and chatter died down.

"We at Reliable Excavation and Demolition are conducting a... little project... We've been noticing that we've solely relied on Freelance mercenaries as the primary bulk of our forces. However, we feel that we need soldiers with proper military experience, combat experience, weapons expertise, have some degree of formal education, and served in a branch of your nation's military. Which is to say, most of you lack at least two of these qualities when we recruited you. Which is why we are bringing in new soldiers into our employ who show the true nature of what it is to be infantry working with us. Plus, I thought this squad was lacking some female intuition. Well, most squads are, but I found this one in particular to be _sorely_ lacking. Which was why Catherine was chosen in particular."

"So wait just a darn minute... So yer sayin' that you brought Miss Catherine along here... so show an example of some sort?" Engineer asked, waving his hand as high as he could in the center of the crowd.

"Finally, one that can listen. Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. See? I knew those four PhD's of yours didn't go to _complete _waste," The Administrator said, though Engi was confused as to whether she was praising him or mocking him in that single sentence. Or both.

"You Freelancers are all murderers... outcasts... deserters... low-lives... barbarians... You all lack the finesse, the expertise, and the efficiency of a true trained soldier. We find the elite, and we have currently added them to every RED team station. These special individuals, exemplify everything that is to be expected of our employees..."

"Hey, aye object te' that!" Demoman shouted out. "I mean, she's a nice girl, but makes her better tan us? What's te' lassie got that we don't? ...hehe... 'sides te obvious..."

Even though Demoman did have a point, the team felt that Catherine was already better than the Black Scottish Cyclops in a few ways, chief of which was that she wasn't drunk at the moment. The man could barely stand, yet tightly held on to his bottle of scrumpy.

"First of all, she doesn't reek of alcohol... But please. Catherine has much more training and discipline than any of you bitwits could hope to imagine. What she lacks in actual combat experience though, more than make up for the elite training regiment she went through, he leadership skills, and her expertise in handling of multiple weapons that don't simply restrict to your "classes." I'm sure even you knuckle-draggers have heard of the British Special Air Service?"

While the name of that organization caused a few people to scratch their heads, a few people, namely Sniper, Soldier, and Spy, were shocked and had their eyes as wide as saucers. "_Mon dieu... _Madame, you mean to tell us zhat zis girl is an SAS operative?" Spy asked. Not too many things were surprising to the Frenchman, but this had caught him off guard.

"An SAS girl? Crikey... Never even knew the Special Air Service took girls in their ranks..." Sniper mumbled. However, as soon as the words left his mouth, the Australian could almost feel himself being glared at.

"They don't," Catherine interrupted. "I was born a few years back before WWII. When the fighting started, my father was a member of the SAS, and over the course of the war, Daddy was able to train me to be able to defend myself. He and several other operatives were able to train me since I was eight. Since the war's end, I've been decorated an SAS member since my training, though I'm not really officially recognized. I'm covertly working for RED to help shift the power balance and civil war to a peaceful state, so I doubt you'll read about Britain's first SAS woman in the next decade's textbooks. But no way in Sam hell am I afraid of this. I mean, Who Dares, Wins, right?" the British girl continued. Most of the team listened to this information, mouths agape in surprise.

"So you see? I believe that Catherine Drake's addition to this squad is a nice addition to this team's... colorful diversity..."

"Te' bloody hell that's supposed to mean?"

"Ugh, shut up, Demo... I do not zhink zhe Administrator means _zhat_ kind of color..." Medic quickly silenced. The German rolled his eyes, as he watched the Scot take another swig of Scrumpy.

"Right... Jus' checkin'... Tankfully, I already don't remember this..." Demo said, wobbling on his own two feet.

"Well then... If there is nothing else, then I ask that you all get along. She's family now... Treat her just like you would a brother... No scratch that. Treat her like the bloody Queen of England, because your manners already suggest you'd be adequately rude anyway..." The Administrator proclaimed, ready to cut off the transmission.

"Wait! Administrator!" the Sniper shouted. "Y-you can't just leave this sheila here without any sort of warning, or notification? You're just leaving her on our doorstep! This ain't bloody fair!"

"Well Roger, when someone makes more money than you, nothing is fair..."

The Administrator smiled evilly, and was about to cackle like a madwoman, before she clicked a button. With that, the entire large screen went blank. The crowd in the communications room dispersed, as group members talked about this "project" thing, and the fact that they now had an extremely well-trained woman in the base.

Sniper however, was left looking at the dark, blank screen and was still left in silence. He heard the footsteps echo throughout the room, before Sniper realized that he was the only one left. He could overhear the team making more introductions, and even commencing a tour of the base. The Aussie Outbacker facepalmed, now completely out of ideas and hopes to get rid of this girl. Regretting the time he switched to tranquilizer rounds last night, Sniper almost clenched a fist with his free hand, though he calmed down. Now, the girl who was such an annoyance, was a full-fledged soldier in the REDs ranks. She was going to live every day with them.

"So... this is the way I'm gonna die, is it? I ain't going down without a fight..."

"I think zhat is the sound of paranoia, is it not, Bushman?"

Sniper looked over his shoulder to see Spy, though Frenchie didn't look like he was there to annoy him again. The Australian assassin looked over toward his European rival, though the Spy didn't have his usual smug look about him. It was somewhat more sincere, if that was even possible.

"Ah, leave me alone, ya bastard... I can tell my life's gonna be hell from here on out, and she's almost been worse than Scout has ever been over the course of day..."

"As much as I detest you, I cannot blame you, Bushman... Zhere is something, how the American's say it...? Fishy. Zhere is something fishy going on here. And even if the Administrator is 'good-willed' enough to send us zis mentor, I do not trust her."

"What're saying?"

"Just... do as you always do. Watch your back... We'll keep an eye on her. Who knows, maybe we can put all zis trouble behind us, and laugh about zis in a couple days," Spy said, in an almost comforting tone. It was odd to hear this from anyone, especially Spy of all people. The Frenchman gave Sniper a hearty pat on the back and offered him a hand to get him back up straight again. Sniper nodded, and accepted as he was hoisted to a standing position. "Now that zhe mushy stuff is all over with, we can be our normal selves... Ahem, you are a smelly, piss-throwing jar man!"

"And you're a gutless snake without a shred manliness!"

"There we go. See? It's not like you to be crying over zis one girl. Jealous of Scout, are you maybe?"

"Hell, Frenchie. I think _you're _the one who's jealous! Scout's got the only real girl for miles, and I know how touchy and sensitive ya get when it comes to sheilas!"

"Haha... Yes, well I suppose his mother will have to do for now, won't she? Come now; all zis talk about women and insults is making me a bit hungry... let's go to zhe mess hall, and get something to eat," Spy smiled slightly, as he walked off outside of the communications, with Sniper soon following suit.

"Right, but no way in hell you're cooking frog legs, and snails, or any a' that crap! We're doing food my way! Shrimp of the barbie!"

Sniper picked up his pace, and pushed Spy aside. Times like this, even if they were complete dicks to each other, at least people on the team help look out for each other. Even backstabbers. But even more, at least Sniper didn't feel alone when he had his suspicions at Catherine. She's probably not really a spy anymore, but she would no doubt cause hell and and ruin the harmonic balance of the team. At the very least, Sniper knew that the presence of a girl would cause some havoc.

Shaking his head, Sniper wanted to remove the thoughts from his mind, as he went off to do some cooking, one of his favorite past-time hobbies, aside from hunting. The thought of some of his own famous fresh barbecued shrimp was enough to put an appetite and savory feeling in his mouth to ignore the presence of any British girls in the base. Confident, Sniper planned on at least cooking for the rest of the team when they got back from touring Catherine around the base. Who knows. Maybe the stubborn sheila might appreciate a cooked meal enough for Sniper to get back in her good graces. If not, there was always a small bottle of rat poison nearby to add some... extra particular flavor to Catherine's meal.

* * *

**So, Sniper's stuck in a bit of a predicament here, eh? Please note that if you happen to see some oddities or errors in this chapter, let me know, since I'm actually uploading this at 2:40 AM. I'm naturally going to be drowsy, so there are naturally going to be some things I might have overlooked. Anyway, until next time guys...**


	5. Divided Opinions

**AN: Hey, Mr. Wang here. Bet you didn't expect to see more of this story, did you? Well... I'm glad to say that it _is _good to be back. And my, oh my, lots of things have changed since I last published a chapter for this. Very interesting... I mean, hell, _Meet the Medic_, came out. That alone speaks volumes for how long I've been gone from here.**

**As another note, I will say that my writing style has very likely changed from what the other chapters have been... it _has _been a year and a half, after all... Still, I hope that doesn't change you from enjoying this story. I rushed to get this done, so I apologize if some things seem a bit choppy...  
**

* * *

Catherine grinned as she was continually introduced and welcomed to the RED Base, informally dubbed as Fastlane. The somewhat eccentric crowd of people stationed within it were all taking a respectful tour with her around its facilities. While some people had many, many things to be desired, a lot of people at least seemed nice or trusting enough, which was good for the former SAS operative if she wanted to integrate herself in these mens' ranks. With the exception of an ethnically-confused drunk who would make the burgermeisters of Oktoberfest cringe, a smoking Frenchman that seemed awfully suspicious and sneaky, and of course, the seeming know-it-all, smelly, unkempt, wisecracking bushman, things seemed to be going along pretty well.

Thorns in her side that would no doubt prove annoying in their seemingly opposing mindset on her presence, but Catherine at least hoped she'd be able to get along with these people eventually. She and these men had to brave whatever the BLU Corporation would throw in their way. And if worst came to worst, and some people were to die in battle... who would miss a smoking Frenchman, a lanky Bushman, and a drunk black Scotsman? Poor buggers.

"Better them than me," she muttered to herself.

"What was dat, Miss?"

"Oh, nothing Kyle. Go ahead and keep progressing with our tour here..."

"Aight, you got it, Catherine... Solly, let's keep moving okay! Mush...! I mean, uh, march!"

"Sir, yes sir!" Soldier replied, as he saluted and marched off in a professionally tense stance. Catherine mused how either dense, or fiercely loyal the Yankee Soldier really was. With a sigh, Catherine kept her pace behind Kyle, more commonly referred to as _'Scout' _by his allies. Musing to herself, Scout is very much so how Catherine would expect a teenage delinquent to act in the battlefield environment. But in a sense, he was sort of able to remind her of herself back a few years ago, when she herself felt so hot blooded, full of pep and energy.

Then again, in the short amount of time she knew him, Scout did appear to be highly narcissistic and egotistical. And perhaps that was enough to make even Yankees cringe. It made her wonder how this man became the 'leader' of this group, per-se. Catherine felt inclined to keep her distance.

* * *

The Engineer, Heavy, and Pyro all seemed to be discussing amongst themselves, as Soldier lead the British girl around the base in a professional manner, with Scout going off in a not-so-professional manner.

Heavy quietly kept his hands behind his back, trying to keep up a bit of a good posture in front of the woman out of respect. He took occasional glances at his friends, with the Texan paying close attention to many bits and pieces of information that his PDA could display to him, while Pyro seemed... well, like Pyro's usual self.

After seeing that Catherine and her tour-guides were starting to pick up their pace a bit around the base's facilities, the large Russian decided to break his silence out of their earshot.

"So... what do you make of Britain girl's place here in Team? I felt Team was good enough as is. But Administrator thinks different..."

The Engineer took his eyes off of his PDA and glanced up towards the towering man beside him, a hint of slight surprise only masked by the smoked goggles on his face.

"Well, that's mighty nice of you to say so, Heavy. Guess it shouldn't surprise me though, given that you always say we're the 'Credit to team' and whatnot..." Engineer began, as he tipped his hard hat to him. "As for Miss Catherine over there, well... maybe I don't really know what to expect with her. She's a nice enough gal, I'm sure. Camper over there unfortunately had to go in and rile her up quite a bit though. Some badder blood between them than an_ injun _and a US cavalryman, I'll tell you what..."

The Heavy scratched his head at a couple of the unfamiliar words or terms that Engineer had just used.

"Uh... What is an injun? And who is this Camper person? I have not heard of him..." he pondered.

As Heavy tried to think, the Pyro interrupted with a couple taps on the Heavy's shoulder.

"Mhphrrs mer mphr, hephry," Pyro mentioned. To compensate for the lack of comprehensible speech, the Pyro decided to try and do some gestures, as if looking through scopes in a rifle. Thoughtfully, Pyro also tried to imitate some mannerisms, such as crouching down, while looking through the imaginary gun, ducking occasionally and glancing behind, as if for spies.

"Well, puttin' on quite a show there, Pyro... Well, the guy's right, Camper's just a little something I kinda like to call Sniper over there... as for an _injun_, well... look it up in one of them books you like to read. I sure as hell ain't too sure how to explain it properly, so I'm sure somethin' over there can help... might wanna check out that lounge too, there's a shelf with a couple books..."

Heavy was somewhat disappointed to not get both of his questions answered, though taking a read on it did seem like it would help. Heavy liked books. There were second on his list, right next to guns. Glancing over towards Pyro, who had stopped playing charades, the Russian also wondered what his flaming friend thought.

"What about Pyro? You seem quite upbeat since War Lady joined us."

The Pyro glanced up towards the large Russian and jovially mumbled a long stretch of words. While the words weren't comprehensible, and the muffled tone of voice and body language was able to tell a bit. Pyro obviously seemed somewhat happy or enthusiastic about Catherine's arrival, making several gestures as if shaking Catherine's hand and hugging her.

"Well, Pyro seems happy enough. But... well, maybe I ain't enthusiastic about needin' a mentor and such as the Administrator said... Hell, I got eleven PhD's, I'm done with teachers," Engineer laughed. "But Missy seems like a nice enough girl, so might be interestin' to see what she's got to teach us."

The trio nodded their heads in agreement. Unlike Sniper, and maybe some other classes, they at least seemed to take a tolerance towards Catherine's presence and purpose. Heavy sighed, as he picked up his pace and lead the group a bit further to catch up with Catherine, Scout, and Soldier.

"_Da_... War Lady might know some things. And perhaps I was too quick to think little girl does not belong on battlefield. I now remember times where ladies fight as partisans in big war against Germans."

Engineer let out a bemused chuckle as he looked back up towards the Russian bear.

"Hehe, well, ain't that something? Ya'll pretty philosophical today, Heavy. Kinda just went and thought you were a bit more stubborn like a mule if you don't mind me sayin'. No offense or nothin'."

Heavy glanced over at Engineer, a somewhat smug grin on the former's face. The latter felt inclined to try and adjust his goggles to even see if he just saw that expression correctly.

"I can be smart when I choose to be. Only Pyro understands. _Da, tovarish_?"

Pyro flashed over a thumbs up and gave Heavy a nice pat on the back, the gas mask head nodding in affirmation.

"Mmph mphna!"

Despite his intuition with being able to understand a variety of machines and mechanics, Engineer's eleven PhD's couldn't have help him understand this odd friendship that the Heavy and Pyro shared. Still, it was alright in his book, and the two did seem quite like the oddballs of the team, a little more introverted than others. It seemed fitting, really.

"Well, I oughtta keep that in mind then... for now, let's just go and see what those lovebirds up ahead are up to..."

With Pyro and Heavy nodding, the three continued to pick up their pace, until they managed to spot Scout introducing Catherine to the entrance to a certain room.

"So, uh... if you'd like, then this'll be your sleepin' quarters, Miss Drake..."

Heavy, Pyro, and Engineer all silently thought it was weird and _almost_ cute Scout was using manners, though knowing the Bostonian's true intentions made the notion disturbing.

Scout jovially opened the door, and introduced a room that was... a bit too familiar for the other classes to smile at.

RED Pennets here, batting equipment there, and posters and merchandise of the Boston Redsoxs everywhere else. Plus, a small fridge that no doubt held a large collection of energy drinks rested in the corner. A gun rack on the wall proudly displayed several short-barreled shotguns, the Scattergun being the center of it all.

Catherine walked in, genuinely taking a bit of piqued interest as she looked around, though it was obvious that this was no guest room. Still, she respectfully looked around the room and noted the decorations, equipment, and knick-knacks lying around.

She tried to give off a good-hearted, albeit forced smile.

"Well, no prize for guessing who's room this is, I suppose?"

Scout chuckled as he nervously walked inside his room alongside Catherine.

"Hehe, well... kinda tacky here and dere, but it's home, isn't it? I... guess you could sleep right there..."

He gestured off to a somewhat small bed near the center of the room. It didn't look like it would accommodate for more than one person, really. Catherine conversely looked somewhat surprised, while the group tailing them was distraught between acting surprised as well, feeling embarrassed that Scout was on their team, or just bemused stoicism.

"You mean you would offer up your room for me to sleep in, Kyle? Well, um... how very sweet of you... But in that case, where would you sleep?"

Scout raised his brows, and remained dead silent as he tried to ponder a response.

"That, uh... wasn't exactly my plan and all, but... well, if you don't mind just sleeping here all... alone and stuff, I guess I ain't gonna argue with dat. I'm an officer and a gentleman, afta all."

That response was enough to make Engineer, Heavy, and Pyro laugh at that statement, albeit a bit repressed. Soldier himself wasn't laughing, though he looked visibly caught off-guard with that statement himself, as if pondering the absurdity.

"I guess it looks like he _does _have a grip on some of that stuff we call 'sanity' after all... well don't that beat all?" Engineer quipped to himself. The others chuckled in agreement, thankfully away from Scout's earshot.

Catherine however, noticed the odd reactions that were being received from everyone else on the team, and started to think about alternatives. At first, actually sleeping in this room was a slim possibility, if at least just to be courteous. Now it seemed like she should avoid considering it altogether, if the reactions were anything to take into consideration.

"Um... well, thank you for the offer, though I'm afraid I'll have to decline. It's nice of you to be like that, though I don't need any sort of charity during my stay here. We'll all be spilling blood together, I am sure that we can eventually toss aside formalities, and I'll be one of you, right?"

Scout and Soldier both glanced at each other, their faces both riddled with a bit of a puzzled expression, though likely for their own different reasoning.

Taking an opportunity to try and save Catherine from the continuation of stupidity, Pyro decided to take the Brit by her arm and guide her down the hall. Soldier, Scout, and Catherine herself looked surprised by the Pyro's sudden action though did nothing to object to it.

"Sir, shall I those two ladies back here this instant?" Soldier asked, cracking his knuckles a bit.

"Nah, go ahead and just let her go with those dorks. I can't hog her all dah time, right? And she will be mine... Oh yes, she _will_ be mine..."

Meanwhile, Catherine was being lead through a couple of hallways, twists and turns this way. It was almost enough for her to get just a bit lost. Still, she hadn't objected or argued a thing at all since being dragged around, so she decided to try and at least say something.

"Sir, can I help you? I... recall you are the Pyro of course, but... Oh, bloody hell, where are my manners? I don't think I caught your name..."

"Mhhphrm."

The girl looked at Pyro, resisting the urge to scratch her head in confusions. She decided to at least play along not to seem rude.

"I... see...?"

It really would've been helpful for Catherine if she could actually hear and comprehend what the Pyro was saying, though alas, that weird gas mask of his (or hers) was making words seem like mumbles. With the large Russian and amiable Texan following behind them, the SAS operative noticed that Pyro was pointing off in some direction down the hall, then making gestures with the hands, as if lying down on a pillow and bed.

"In case ya can't tell Missy, Pyro there's pointing you over in the direction of the barracks and sleepin' quarters. If you ain't sleeping in Scout's room over there, then that's where the rest of us without our own rooms hit the hay."

Pyro nodded, giving another thumbs up in appreciation for Engineer's translation. Finally making sense of Pyro's act, Catherine glanced over at the masked... person, and nodded her head thankfully.

As she was lead to a room full of bunks and cots, Catherine looked at the watch on her wrist.

"Oh my, well... looks like it is getting somewhat late... Is there supper time soon?"

Heavy glanced down at his own stomach, and at that moment, a distinctly audible rumbling could be heard. He chuckled, as patted his large belly, somewhat like a Russian Buddha. He gestured for Catherine to follow him, as he in turn lead the way this time.

"_Da._ Food is good. We will show you to dining room."

Smiling, Catherine and the others followed Heavy. The British girl felt pleased that she was able to at least be somewhat friends with these foreign members. Even the Yankee Engineer didn't seem so bad. Hell, she had refrained some saying that word _out loud_, during the whole tour. That had to count for something.

Hopefully the other members of the team could be as tolerant.

* * *

"Roight, roight, that ain't the best part, mates! So then she says, _'No, I do not eat crumpets, and tea is so... antwacky...'_ Ain't that a bunch?"

Sniper and the company of his friends at the dining hall all proceeded to laugh hysterically.

The Australian couldn't recall when he's ever had this much fun. His profession wasn't supposed to be _fun_, per-se, though the guys around him could sometimes be funny people.

And after he made some shrimp on the barbie, as well as Spy helping out with making some dishes from Spain that had funny names but tasted _really_ good, Demoman came across the dinner and decided to make the party even better.

Sniper never would've guessed how much stress just a couple bottles of Australian Ale could relieve.

Shortly after though, Medic joined in on the festivities after Demoman goaded him in joining. That said, while he was still drunk too, Medic's own personal health status was far beyond that of the others at the moment, to say the least...

"Oooh, zhat was a good one, Bushman!" Spy proudly declared over a small glass of tequila. After taking a shot, he raised his hands, gesturing everyone to calm down. "Okay, okay, I have a tale to tell all you you... so, _shut up_, and listen!"

Everyone in their drunken state decided to keep down, and wait for Spy to tell his story.

"Okay, so I was with zhe BLU Scout's mother, and she wanted to do some roleplay, zhat saucy little minx... so I put on zhis brown hat, and get a whip... oh, it was so much fun!" he began. That alone seemed enough to make everyone continue to laugh in their drunkeness. "But zhen, BLU Scout walks in! So, with me in zhe hat and whip, I try to imitate zhis one American movie I once saw! So, I steal his mother's panties, and imagined Scout as a boulder chasing me, and I make my great escape! All it was missing was zhe music!"

Everyone started to laugh, while Demoman recalled said music, and started humming the theme to Raiders of the Lost Arc... Everyone else found the gesture so amusing, they all decided to hum the theme in an off-key chorus, with many people not even knowing the song at all, but pretending to.

"Oh, _mon ami, _you are good!" Spy declared, laughing and snorting as he took another tequila shot.

"Aye, you bet your arse I am! I'm teh life of this party, ain't I?" he said, taking a drink of Scrumpy. "Uh... huh... Hey! Who wants me to cook some haggis?"

"Oh, come on you _dummkopf_!" Medic proclaimed. "You know zhat all haggis tastes like ass anyvay!"

"Aye, but in the right hands, it can taste like _mighty fine _ass!" Demoman said, with pride.

"Ooh! Ooh! I know!" Spy interrupted, still laughing and snorting like an idiot. "Speaking of mighty fine asses, did you take a look at zhe girl who had just recently joined us? Where can I get sauce for zhat rump roast?"

Everyone started to laugh hysterically again, though that's when Sniper and Medic were able to see a select group of people walking into the dining room, immediately achieving sobriety to try and not embarass themselves yet further. Spy and Demoman however, still did not notice the people behind them...

"Oh, I'm sorry you wanker, what was that you just asked?"

The Spy continued laughing in the midst of his response.

"Haha, I asked, where can I get some sauce for zhat rump roast!" he declared proudly. He then paused for a moment to realize that the question didn't come from a really recognizeable voice. He looked over to his side, then the face that he saw sink into his head.

"Oh... _merde_."

Catherine gave the rouge a brief lesson in pain, with the back of her hand.

Everyone at the dining table winced at the Frenchman's punishment, though they couldn't help but also find the ordeal rather humorous.

That's when Catherine started to glare at everyone else in the room. Sniper quickly noticed that Medic had now started to hid under the table, out of the British girl's sight.

"Crikey..." Sniper muttered, facepalming. Things didn't look too good.

While Engineer, Pyro, and Heavy all waited near the entrance to the dining room, Catherine patrolled the area, noting all the guilty parties that were involved in this.

"You people make me very bloody sick... I mean, look at you berks! You're all drunk off your rockers, aren't you? This just won't do one bit, not it won't..."

"Jus' cause teh lady who yells at us when we fight sent ye here, doesn't mean you can boss us around, either! We can do what we want with our free time! Isn't that right, boyos?"

If people hadn't been so intimidated, perhaps people would've been a bit more cooperative with Demoman. Alas, only Sniper seemed to be overly agreeing with him.

"He's roight! I mean, just cause you're our mentor or some thing like that, that doesn't mean you can boss us around, ya piker! You don't seem much better than 'ol Scout, don't ya?"

Under normal circumstances, Sniper would never had let those words out of his mouth. Even he had standards of being more polite than that. Though, it was amazing what large consumptions of alcohol could do to one, releasing their inhibitions and all.

Naturally, Catherine also slapped Sniper.

"Kyle's been a bit more of a professional about things than you, if I do say so myself..."

The bushman felt like out of anything else that Catherine said to him, that one probably had the least intent of malice... and it hit him _harder _than anything else she had said. Scout was _hardly _a professional...

Somewhat surprised, but satisfied after seeing Sniper visibly shaken by that statement, Catherine walked past him towards one of the counters near the kitchen. She took a large tray and filled it with enough of the food Sniper and Spy made that could feed herself, the Engineer, the Heavy, and the Pyro (if this guy even ate), and started to head off.

"I believe since this place has been adequately soiled, then I'm off to eat with some of the more upstanding individuals at the sleeping quarters..." she announced aloud. "Oh, and another thing: Please sober up the next morning, boys. I have a series of questions and interviews I need to sort out with everyone so I can get to know you better, before I can lead you all..."

Catherine handed her rather weighty tray over to the Heavy, as she glanced back at the group, more specifically, Sniper.

"And please, I would suggest you all cut down on your alcohol intake. It can make all of you look so... _unprofessional_."

With that, she and her friends left the area.

Sniper had absolutely no idea what to say. Instead, he felt the cheek upon which she had slapped him, before sighing. He took another drink from his bottle of Australian ale.

"Bloody hell, what'd we do to deserve this sheila's scorn, eh?" he pondered. Looking under the table cloth that overhung at the table, Sniper still found Medic hiding.

"Do you zhink she noticed me?" he asked.

"Oh, come on out of there, you wet-nurse..."

Yanking Medic by the collar of his lab coat, Sniper fished him out from under the table, silently disappointed.

"Vell, I wouldn't want her to zhink less of me, really... And you know me: Demoman just... goaded me into getting involved in zhis foolishness..."

Spy managed to finally stand up, adjusting his suit.

"Well gentlemen, zhat was... unfortunate. However, maybe she does have a point. Perhaps it was a bit... foolish to be letting ourselves go, especially zhis early on while her presence is here. What will zhe Administrator zhink? Besides... I only partook in zhis event, because Sniper was feeling a bit mopey."

"Mopey? What're you sayin', mate?" Sniper asked incredulously.

"Eh, you were on zhe precipice of suicide or going to drastic measures, if I say so myself. Zhis is supposed to be my job to drive you zhere, not Catherine. I do not take kindly on people stealing my very own duties..."

"Aw, how backstabbingly sweet, if I say so myself, you wanka."

Spy nodded his head, before glancing over at his watch.

"Well, zhis was certainly a good break from zhis drama going around. But it is getting late. And Catherine will indeed be looking for us in zhe morning for zhis interviewing session of hers. I zhink it might be very interesting, actually... so if you'll excuse me, I'll be retiring to my quarters."

Medic looked up and nodded his head, agreeing with Spy.

"Ja, I believe I should get going as well... zhis madness is a bit much to handle. Ve shall rest on it. I zhink you should as well, Sniper."

"Don't fret, boyo... if I'm the only one worried about this, I'd be a wee bit scared at that then," Demoman interrupted. "It'll be hell, but we'll get through this madness... Or my name ain't Winston Churchill!"

Everyone in the room took an aside glance at each other, before sighing.

"Sheila does seem like she's got a bit of an agenda... and I don't like it..." Sniper muttered.

Demoman and Spy nodded their heads. Feeling he stayed enough for this conversation and there was nothing for him, Medic decided to walk on ahead past everyone else.

"Indeed. If a woman is not under your heel, then she is connivingly plotting somezhing against you. I would be on my toes, zhe woman is a most dangerous weapon in mankind... _femme fatale, _no?"

Demo and Sniper raised their respective spirits in the air, taking a drink towards that notion.

"She won't be able to take our freedom, lads! Not by a longshot!"

With that note, Spy and Medic both left the area to go and pursue a good night's rest. Sniper and Demoman both stayed in their seats at the dining table, continuing to drink. Sniper felt like he himself might need it. And if the hangover was bad enough, maybe he wouldn't have to get out of bed just to play along with Catherine's job. On that note, the Aussie assassin waved up his hand to catch his rival's attention.

"Hey, Spy! You didn't happen to poison any of the food we just made, did ya? Namely the stuff Cathy just ran off with now?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Ah, piss..."


End file.
